Lines on March in Trump’s America

                   Spring Break

He’s gazing out into the distance, again.

The sun has gone over the hill.

He’s reading his book and he’s petting his dog

And wishing that time could stand still.

 

The game is approaching the end of the fifth.

He says it’s time for a refill.

The air is as soft as a baby’s behind.

And he wishes that time could stand still.

 

The beach is just teeming with tourists again.

The sunset’s a daily thrill.

She orders another, and muses aloud

That she wishes that time could stand still.

 

The bombers are ready, and missiles will fly.

There’s oceans of blood to be spilled.

I know it sounds gloomy, but nevertheless

We know that time never stands still.