His cultists still insist he has a plan.
With prices lurching sky-ward at the pump,
none have the balls to disabuse their man
their minds and souls are wholly owned by Trump.
Dementia steals the words he'd want to speak;
all adjectives have been replaced by"big".
Sad baggy suits can't hide when diapers leak.
Still, no one takes the car keys from their pig.
The Checks and Balances he never learned
can't guard our civil Rights, nor our East Wing.
When standards of civility are spurned
we've lost the spirit that threw off a king.
The 25th Amendment's got no teeth,
but--maybe--next year, Congress can impeach.
LaTrobe seemed safe, Trump thought he'd humanize
his bid where voters trended staunchly Red.
Rhapsodic about Arnold Palmer's size,
and how he dreamt of foursomes, while in b,ed.
No prosecutors charging him with graft,
no women seeking child support again
just drooling over Arnold's "strong...stiff shaft"
the way one does when bonding with men's men..
The millions daddy gave him now long gone,
whole fortunes dribbled through his stubby hands.
This textbook insecure spray-tanned DonJuan
seeks --vainly --validation he's a man.
Trump fawning worship of their golfer ace
is weirding out his homophobic base.
