The Circle of Trump

So planetary and orbital, he arrived as a chunk of dark matter to crater our lives. Like a Sun God the man in the Oval roams the circumference.  His hair is sunrise itself. How he rises and sets all powerful worshiped by a landslide of love. How he goes and comes around like some circular argument to prove himself.

In a circular argument the conclusion proves the premise which proves the conclusion. So migrants are all criminals crossing the border therefore we need the National Guard. Why? Because these rapists and murders are threatening our national security. And how do we know this? Because Fox News says so and everybody knows this. It is even on T.V.

The circus of Donald Trump dominates the news cycle. The pocked lunacy. The perpetual spin. How he bounces the Hannity and sure enough it sounds ripe the way that red ball returns tethered as it is by rubber band to paddle. What joy he must feel to watch it roll on early morning tweets circling the Earth. Those bubbles overhead, now sixty watt bulbs, enough to wake faraway places to his brilliance. The incandescence of his nocturnal emissions circle the globe in a planetary roundelay. His blurts dance and shiver the ether  

He listens to his echo sounding sweet as an orange. The juice. The peel. Forget those inconvenient pits, the rind of the matter. Sunkist is the cover-up, the comb-over.

By executive order pi r squared, 3.14, is now fake. He has decreed a new ratio of O because O was Obama and must be repealed…like an orange the way the ball was foul even though it was fair because the imp is now the ump, the guy who is calling the balls and strike, who’s safe and who’s out of the inner circle.

The Wheel of Fortune turned and we got Donald as if the previous administration was too lofty, inclusive and incorruptible. Maybe there is some cosmic rotation at play to offer a glimpse of the abyss after eight years of dignified statesmanship. Or perhaps this is an instance of the ouroboros, the snake that eats its own tail, a symbol of the eternal cycle of renewal.

In any case the White House door revolves like a merry-go-round with dozens leaving and the few remaining out to destroy the mission of government, proving its dysfunction. What’s left is a poverty of deliberation and vacancy of competence….a balloon filled with hot air.

While the man putts his balls into holes at public expense the nation caddies his clubs. It doesn’t take a crystal ball to see we have been taken for a ride with a flat tire.