Trump, In Verse

When meeting with the press, the way you might think I’d expect to go
is filled with zigs (and often zags), to wit: the Gulf of Mexico.
As re-elected President, the thing I find most dutiful
is changing ocean basin names to ones I find more beautiful.

Let’s substitute “America” in place of “Mexico” – because
it takes the focus off more talk about those times I’ve broken laws.
Instead of bringing down the costs of what you eat with knife and fork,
I’m spending all my time avoiding sentencing up in New York.

I’d seize the Panama Canal and Greenland through, perhaps, coercion –
crazy schemes that from my legal obstacles serve as diversion.
Six months needed now to make the war in Ukraine go away,
whereas, when I campaigned, I boasted I could solve it in one day.

Ill-conceived, preposterous, nonsensical, and silly notions;
generating headlines through my specialty in self-promotion.
Taking over Canada? There’s not a snowball’s chance of hell in.
Fantasies abound – but here’s a fact: I’m a convicted felon.