Point Me Toward the Booth, Tarkington! (11)

     I've had
zero luck keeping the party afloat...

(still I vote)
     ...since the 

repo man managed to scuttle our boat. 
Still, I vote.
     Now I 

haven't the brass for a bracelet-sleev'd coat...
but I vote.    
     Upon
Donald's hot air how can followers dote...?
Still I vote.  
     About 

Hillary's emails I'm loathe to emote.
Still I vote.   
     And, while 

Donald's been deem'd a despicable POTUS  
and Hillary's framed as a plainly fail'd FLOTUS, 
I still feel the Bern (though I'll not stoop to gloat as
I vote.)  
     Long I’ve
campaigned for candidates bas – rarely haut. 
Still I vote.
     And I 

care not for Carly nor Chris one iota…
yet vote. 

     And al-

though for young Marco I jitter no jota...
I vote. 
     I’ve yip-
pee’d, "I’ve no need to set sail for Kyoto
to vote."
     Need I 

row high or low…? No, nor ask Mikimoto
to vote.
     Still, the 

sourest of notes is when, feeling one’s oats,
     one’s by 

wannabe POTUSes, flooded with quotes
     pledging 

tot’lly by rote. (It’s the Year of the Stoat:
note the offal they float!)
Still, I vote…
    ...from some
U-boat if need be, if that’s not verboten.
My I.D. I’ll tote in my waistcoat, you’ll note. In
I’ll go – X, Y, Z – and start votin.' I’m free…
...and I vote.