The morning that Donald Trump -
now, here I considered employing a list
of the many satirical nicknames
attributed to the new president-elect
some of them no doubt rib-tickling, certainly
insulting, even at a stretch devastating but
what a waste of time
we're beyond that
we're staring down the barrel
of a fucking dark age
unless you think otherwise, I mean, personally
my stocks & shares account has surged since
the result was announced -
was elected the 47th President
We meandered around
the National Gallery of a foreign land
- where I enjoyed a surprisingly
satisfying 80c coffee from a vending machine -
and after which we wandered into the Botanic Garden
and took pictures of the roses:
Summer Song, the Mary Rose, and Pilgrim,
Grand Chateau, Orient, the Fairy,
Sissi, Carina, and Mister Lincoln, what a
delightful morning that was, drifting
about the town with you,
smelling the roses so far
away from the news
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