A Visit from Reality

trump-christmas

‘Twas Inauguration Day, when all through D.C.

Not a donor was happy for poor Hillary.

Protesters patrolled the Capitol with care,

In fear that The Donald would make it his lair;

The Koch bros. were sated, all smug in their beds;

While electoral tactics danced in their heads;

And Michelle in her sleeveless, and I in my tux,

Were resigned to the fact that reality sucks,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I stopped reading Lincoln to see what was the matter.

Away to the Oval I flew like a flash,

And told Secret Service to throw up the sash.

When what to my literate eyes did emerge,

But a gold-plaited Humvee with four passengers,

And a fat ugly driver so orange and put-on,

I knew in a moment he must be The Don.

Sycophantic as slugs, they all followed his lead,

And he boasted, and tweeted, and called them to heed:

“Now, Bannon! Now, Christie! Now Conway and Cruz!

Let’s get out of here before Dems make us lose!

There’s no way I can preside or build a big wall,

Obama can stay, let fake news take the fall!”

I have to admit, I was secretly glad,

If Trump did resign, I could govern like mad!

More laws and more speeches and what’s best—more me.

A philosopher-king I would finally be.

But I glanced at Malia and Sasha and Bo,

And I knew in my heart that we all had to go.

While hope wilts, progress halts, and Trump may derange,

In democracies we’re at least guaranteed change.

So I went right outside and blocked the car’s way:

“This country is bigger than you or me, please stay.”

He was dressed all in fur, from his foot to his hair,

And he looked like the child of some goblin and bear.

His tangerine face—how it glowed! How it sagged!

His neck I admit made me suppress a gag.

His droll little mouth was drawn up in a smirk,

But this job, we both knew, was not something to shirk.

He was bloated, stuffed, a triumvirate belly,

As warm and slick as a bowl of K-Y jelly.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He was shifty towards me, not visibly mad,

And after sizing me up, uttered only: “Sad!”

He sprang backward and to his team gave a whistle;

I thought about him with a nuclear missile.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of range—

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