The Party's Over Poem by Percy Dovetonsils

Even those few Okies
who dared to come,
who signed the waivers,
realize that,

though they're not gonna admit it
as they pretend
to laugh
at his endless, exhausted, exhausting, jokes.
Tired schtick
from 2016

that great year
which built to a crescendo
in November
(the coronation
was already a bit
of a diminuendo
though he pretenuendo'd
otherwise)

acrescendo
empowering them
to hate again
proudly, shamelessly,
the way red blooded Americans did
in the good old days,

back when the people
built statues
to slavers on horseback
without apology,
instead of
tearing them down
in a cloud
of tear gas.

He explains
that he had to drink
his sippy cup
with 2 hands
to protect his tie
and they pretend
to understand.

On the flight east
he imagines
how he'll look
on horseback
in bronze
on the pedestal
in Lafayette Park
where Andrew Jackson
used to sit
and how much better
he'll look
on the $20 bill
than Jackson does
or Harriet Tubman
ever would.