Some day an opera will be written about the rise and fall of Donald Trump, and it will be a tragi-comedy. Fio can hear some of the music now, a rump-tump-a-tump as he enters the room, then his voice booming out with "Build a wall, a mile thick, a mile tall, that no one can pass through, that no one can undo, and will be yuge, yuge, yuge, no refuge, refuge, refuge...."
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What our so-called president didn't realize when he gathered a mob behind him is that the opposition could also muster a mob. Your Fio is part of it.
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Enough of the trivia in Fio's life. She's working on another political poem, and maybe she'll send some of her earlier efforts to the New York Times. The pen is mightier than the sword.
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