"Mister Don Trump"
Trump's hair.
Like a bread roll constructed from mist.
Like a plainly bald man walked into an off-colour cobweb and this was what stuck to his cranium,
Like a crash helmet crafted from the finest filigree gossamer.
Trump's hair the ghost of real hair.
What hand were equal to draw it –– what poet can write of it?
Not me apparently.
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