For the Rest, Trump

Though in the wild he is not a Muss-

olini, or not quite, he has a dear-

ly bought and bald-headed public fear

that the old order’s order has shaken loose,

the locomotive stalled, the red caboose

has rolled off backward, feckless, foreign, queer;

the goggling passengers try to smile, sneer:

the question of ticket class is too abstruse,

and yet they have been left behind; they are

getting drunk and telling the waiter that

they’re going to have him fired, but their hist-

rionics never leave the dining car.

The bosses don’t care anyway. Back at

the station they quibble over who’s a fascist.