BY OTIS KIDWELL BURGER | He whistled to the discontented
Come follow me, I will lift you up
He said. Come inside and close the door
And I will make you safe.
But how did he get in?
Why did the border guards not vet him properly
As he slipped from the shadows on TV shows
Onto the stage of cold reality
A terrorist spouting schoolboy taunts and name calling
Alternate truths and misdirections
In a strange soft intersex voice
Whittling away at 300 years of our protections, our laws
Our friendships and interdependences here and with all the world
Jeers and taunts, boasts and promises
Impossible to keep. Oh
He danced on the head of a pin. He prattled. He seduced
And raped audiences and women. It was hard to watch.
But he was far more entertaining
Before the election.
