Total Landscaping: A Masque
A poem for Sunday
JAMES PARKER
America is loose as a goose
It avoided becoming Belarus.
But that sulking Caesar, POTUS—where’s he gone?
Is he watching Fox News with a big frown on?
We’ll seize the cycle. We’ll make allegations.
Reverse these numerical humiliations.
A major press conference, that’s the thing.
At the Four Seasons... Total Landscaping.
So the gods of bathos displayed us all
on pickled asphalt, by a lumpy green wall.
The morning light so skeptically slanted,
the scene so tawdry and disenchanted...
O flunkies, we’re at oblivion’s door.
It’s right next to Fantasy Island Adult Bookstore.
By the twang of the dildo, by the undertaker’s shoes,
some shall win and some shall lose.
The dark portal is reached. Bow down and enter.
Across from the Delaware Valley Cremation Center.
https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2020/11/four-seasons-total-landscaping-poem/617042/
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