A sunny Sunday afternoon,
everyone enjoys the party—
kids screeching with joy
swinging back and forth,
enjoying their first sensation
of a budding addiction
to a thrill in the loins.
A smiling mother dances along
behind a wheelchair—her kid’s
twisted cerebral palsy hands
gyrate to music on an ipod.
A yarmulke-clad Chabadnik
laughs with a rotund Korean father
who wears a gold cross.
The continuing sound of children’s
laughter drowns out any hint of ennui.
Can heaven be any better than this?
Then, a huge blimp floats overhead
emblazoned with the name, “TRUMPF.”
The king of darkness looks out a window,
tired from watching pornography all night.
He makes the sky as black as Hitler—the party’s over.