He’s Our President

You might have guessed it with a shaken look
and a white knuckled shudder;
this man ( such as he is ) is our President.

This fat man
who claims he’s trim
is our President.

This aged man who claims
the viability of a vigorous sun
is our President.

This feeble crab
of a man
is our President.

This crusty
grouch of terror
is our President.

This golf buddy, toady-lover,
this cheater and grub?
That’s the President,

that frog right there.
That too stupid to know otherwise
animal-thing, except

no animal kingdom claims him
and no thing of the rest of the world
claims him. We keep shaking our heads

but then eat him up
like a sad gas station meal —
hey, he’s the President,

don’t you know?
There are people
who seem to like him

but then again
there are people who
fuck their cousins.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T