If Donald Trump Were A Cucumber

Saladed upon a mixed-green mattress —

Shoestring carrots, tomato balls, and boxy croutons have lost none of their savor, yet are lost from view.
Should you lose your appetite, the desire to feed of our fears abating (Loser!),

Pulpy white circles enclosed in green skin strips will retain their appearance —

Just as fresh,

Just as smooth,

Just as tempting,

As they did when hunger fired within you.
While the rest of the salad spoils, juices secreting into the bottom of the glass bowl,

Spoiling liquid melding into a noxious concoction.
The only way to eat the slices

Is to drink the gaggy dregs.

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One thought on “If Donald Trump Were A Cucumber

  1. Pingback: A Visit with Claude and Fraud | The Diligent Dilettante

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