“The Orange”
A tragic poem in the tradition of Edgar Allan Poe, defiled by narcissism, Twitter rage, and cheeseburgers.
Once upon a press night dreary, while he ranted, bored and bleary,
Over many a slanderous screed of fake news he would deplore—
While he nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a yapping,
As of someone gently clapping, clapping outside Mar-a-Lore.
“’Tis the base,” he muttered, snapping, “lining up outside my door—
Just the patriots. Nothing more.”
Ah, distinctly I...