New Romantic Poetry

With apologies to Samuel Taylor Coleridge:

In Madison did Mayor Dave
A stately library decree.
His reasoning was firm and brave:
On building costs we'll surely save
If we move now, said he.

A hundred-five-thousand square feet of space
With glass and steel will be built apace.
There will be sunlight bright shining in all year
And far more space for citizens to use.
On days with weather that is warm and clear
We'll all enjoy the patio on the roof.

But oh, that steep taxpayer burden which landed
Twice as hard as Edgewater's sixteen million.
A savage fee the citizens were handed,
An island of public debt on which we're stranded
With no rescue from a Frautschi or a Goodwin.

And when the old library is vacated,
With scavengers and wrecking ball both sated,
A brand new hotel hopefully will rise,
To further clutter downtown's shaded skies
With empty rooms and yet another bar.
At least there'll be someplace to park your car.

The ramp will not fill up with out-of-towners;
Our airport is not major -- what a downer.

(I planned to finish it, but I've spent too much time on it already.)