Poems of the Week

Donald Trump Goes to the Grocery Store

by Mae Scanlan

“I’d like to buy some applesauce.”
You need to show me your IDs.”
“I left them home.” “You may be boss,
But I need proofs. Produce them, please.”

“Hey, I’ve got cash. I’d like to go
Play golf. Don’t make this purchase hard.”
“You cannot have it till you show
Your license or a credit card.

Our policy makes perfect sense;
For all I know, you’re Betsy Ross.
Until you show some documents
Forget about your applesauce.”