The portly warrior with the ski-slope gut,
wearing a Woodrow-Wilson-era overcoat
flicks a 4-F salute as he trots up the ramp
and flies off to Florida – an elderly scamp
playing hooky from Washington, D. C.,
to set a little white ball on a little red tee
and, after adjusting his ample frame
and giving the ball a familiar name,
like Flynn, or Spicer or Priebus, or how
about a spokesman named Mark Carollo?
he whacks it off the green into the blue,
leaving it up to lawyers to decide who
did what and to whom and who knew?
Off they fly –- Bannon, Gorka, Scaramu-
cchi – Granddad doing the hoochy koochy
as he addresses the little ball atop the tee.
