pay not attention to the tan behind the curtain

The thatch befitting an orangutan
bizarrely grafted onto Donald's head
as artificial as the spray-can tan
morticians use to 'juvenate the dead
took flight as he embarked on AirForce One.
It wasn't engineered for such a test
a golfer's 'do, to amble, not to run
transforms to an abandoned raven's nest.
The bald-spot that he hides beneath that mop,
winks pinkly from a million TV screens
third buttock, brandished cockily  on top
what ought to be concealed within his jeans.
Potempkin coiffure, ginned up for the Press
pretends it's more, but all can see, it's less.