Oh, Mr. Trump,
you can do anything
because you have all
the money and power
in the entire universe.

You are the king
of my mountain,
the prince of my hills,
the steed of my forest,
the stallion of my valley.

Please, Mr. Trump,
let my woman-juice
be your drink
every morning and night.
Let my tender nipples
dangle from your ears
like diamonds.
Please be the farmer
of my homegrown
marijuana patch.

Oh, Mr. Trump,
together we can do anything.
We can fly to the moon,
set Mars on fire,
and dance on the rings of Saturn.

Please, Mr. Trump.
The look in your eyes
and the glow of your
beautiful windswept hair
keeps me alive.

 

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