Man of Mar-a-Lago
You do not have to be good
to have a quest. Evil dreams
can be impossible too.
When you tilted at the windmills
of our government, you were unhorsed
and bruised, but so were we.
Your Aldonza remains Aldonza, because
you never believed in “Dulcinea” anyway.
You were just the head muleteer,
who crossed her palm with silver.
Your Sancho was already the governor
(if a bad one) of an island.
And no, he doesn’t really like you.
Your only dream was to be knighted
with universal adulation:
Don the Stable Genius. And even this
would never be enough, never equal
the flash of approval in old Fred’s eyes,
the nod of acceptance that never came.
And now Fox and your last Friends,
are circling you, turning their mirrored shields,
and you fall, blinded by the glare
of reality. But still, forever chanting:
I am the best.
I am the greatest.
I alone can fix it.