He thinks he’s the trump card,
but he’s really the joker in the pack,
a businessman in a polyester suit,
pockets full of post-truths,
white elephant gone rogue–
how his troll hair and ludicrous
orange pomade suck up the spotlight.
What will happen now he’s won the prize?
Perhaps he feels he’s already earned the T-shirt,
after that run of cheap campaign souvenirs in his bid
to ‘Make America Great Again’
(some parts made in China).
What next–after he’s eaten every last crumb
of that gold-encrusted celebration cake
kept out of sight in the Hilton larder just in case he lost?
Will he build a great wall of Mexico
with the aid of good old mafia-style extortion?
Will he revive the rust belt?
Re-open the coal mines?
Or more likely plan a crazy golf course (with gift shop)
on the White House lawns and invite Putin to play a round–
with Farage as caddy?
I’m wondering how that global paunch will fit behind
the presidential desk–
(they’d better provide him with a pillow,
as he’ll need more naps than George ‘W’ Bush.)
And perhaps that iconic baseball cap
should sport a new embroidered declaration:
‘Putting all clever, pesky women in their place
on behalf of America’s old white men.’