Delivering poetic justice during the Trump years.

Alex Acosta
They say what’s past is prologue, so that means you should be wary.
And yet, despite it all, Trump named me Labor Secretary.
I stood in front of media, with face described as poker,
And tried to justify my past performance: mediocre.

When I worked for the DOJ (‘twas as U.S. Attorney)
I cut a deal with Epstein; pretty sweet. And in return he
Spent a little time in jail and got to spend days at his office.
I claimed this was the best that I could do, and cut my losses.

He preyed upon young, teenage girls; behavior predatory.
Yet when it came to victims – it’s the same, familiar story:
“Their backgrounds make them sketchy; testimony unreliable.
If we depend upon them for our case, it won’t be viable.”

So while I said I understood the victims’ inner rage,
Some were described as “prostitutes” – despite their tender age.
I chose not to consult with them, and hid behind a policy.
And now, to keep my job, I will not offer an apology.

But time, thank goodness, wounds all heels – and in the present day
That pervert’s headed back to jail, a much less pleasant stay.
And as for me, I’ll have to deal with all the nasty fallout
As more details, long buried, from their hiding places crawl out.

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