Windsurfing Nation

I stand here, lonely and unloved. I am so thoroughly implanted in the country I love, yet so imperfect and unfinished. The Alaskan winds blow lightly on my unsightly and cantankerous body. My edges are rough and unfinished; I become a cliff at my farthest peak. O Greek God of scandal and forgotten affection; I am the Bridge to Nowhere.
My masters have all gone away to do the dance that they do every four years; they bicker and they whine, they kiss hands and shake babies. When they finally do come home, I’m left sitting in the corner of their room, barely spoken of or looked at. Soon they’ll find something new; a new object of gluttonous affection to lather with public money and parade in front of the starving masses, as they had with me. Now, my rocky exterior is a poster child of unbridled hatred that unites mobs and Joe-Six-Packs everywhere. How I wish that just one couple would teeter along my fringes, one lamp post would flicker on my head, one car would careen drunkenly off my cheek.  My mother, sweet aunt of purity and hockey moms has left me alone, not even giving me so much as to allow me to reach my little destination. My father, O bless’d prince of unwavering principles has gone to jail. He sits with a man named Rocko and forgets my contours as he spends romantic nights with those crooks and liars.
Great grandfathers; where are you now? I miss my long-nose freak and my monotonous man! Come back, come back, because we all know you were wrong and you were bad, what are we supposed to do now?