Trump\'s Fifth Avenue Serenade

Trump's Fifth Avenue Serenade

I could stand in the middle of 5th Avenue and shoot somebody and I wouldn't
lose voters.
- Donald Trump

Trump points a gun at a homeless person
on Fifth Avenue and shoots. Trump is
only slightly surprised no police come,
but they won't jeopardize his tough-on-crime
good will. Then blam - a couple of tourists.
Blam – a rando black man. Blam to
an off-duty feminist professor. Blam to
a protestor and a building inspector in one shot.

He shoots lovers at the Empire State
a French poodle by the Flatiron,
a liberal archivist at the library
while the lions stare noticeably away.
He shoots out the stained glass
at St. Patrick's and hits the cross at the center
of the archbishop's chest before lining
up the mayor multiple times, once
for each insult. He shoots the Apple Store,
bisecting science with a shattering.
He scatters the shoppers at Saks,
except for those buying his daughter's
brand. He strafes the visitors at
the Rockefeller, then goes all Rambo
at the MOMA and gaga at the Guggenheim.

Fellow Republicans are horrified
but the polls are still good. Democrats
protest, but their peeps give away
their position and – blam. The Supreme
Court sits like a murder of crows waiting
for a complaint to be brought. Reporters
call him out before he shoulders
a rocket launcher and the public watches
this high-caliber geyser. Ratings for
everything else dwindle to nothing
while people see how far one man can go.
He can't stop now because he has become
the main source of the belief that anything
is possible. Soon he is cracking shots
at the Kremlin, chipping centuries of
"Do Not Enter" from the Great Wall,
lobbing lead loogies at The Louvre, tagging
the Taj Mahal, riddling the Dome of the Rock,
mauling crowds at Mecca. He arrives
at the Sphinx and is so upset someone
has already shot off its nose, he doesn't
even wait for the question before
delivering his universal answer.