In the wake of his convention
And the primary season, too,
Would it be at all surprising
That I feel profoundly blue?
How can one devoid of nuance,
For whom life’s a win-lose play,
Be considered for the real world,
Where one deals with matters gray?
Aren’t you alarmed public service
Was naught to this seventy-year-old,
Till he sought the highest office
To boost his brand of tarnished gold?
Under a symbol endangered,
Facing crisis elephantine,
Isn’t it ironic, his ticket of
Deniers blithely mocks the green?
Can a worshipper of Mammon,
Who shamelessly on others tread,
Cheating, abusing, extorting,
Win over fans of Vermont red?
Should we really need to conjure
Il Duce or the Corporal
To reject bans, walls – hate so vile –
And tilt the states of purple?
Don’t you notice undercurrents
In the “make again” broken track,
Calling former would-be masters
To clean DC of Kenya black?
So will you stand this year with her,
Imperfect, cautious, yet mostly right,
To ensure a dangerous clown
Is nowhere near the House of White?
