“What shall I go as for this Halloween?”
Asked Trump of his mirror, “Right now I’m between
The spooky or history—there’s two or three
From there who almost remind me of me.”
And the mirror replied, as it always did,
“Whatever you choose, it’s really yuge, kid!
But seeing your greatness, the best they could do
If they were around, is to imitate you!”
“I don’t know about that, but, well, if you insist,
At least we could write up a possible list
Of people to be when I’m out on the street
And I shout ‘Vote for me!’ and ‘Hey, you! Trick or treat!’
There’s Caesar, of course—he had plenty of Gaul
And millions of voters would come at his call
(all armed—they were also his army—how great!)
And he bullied the Senate to give him the state.
That’s draining the swamp! And ten minutes later,
He forced them to make him eternal dictator.
He could have done more—he was on the attack—
But then—it’s so SAD!—he was stabbed in the back
By people he trusted—that’s happened to me!
There’s Ryan and the whole of the dumb RNC—
Not to mention that guy who, at my expense,
Has plans to replace me—he’s B. Arnold Pence!”
“You have to expect it,” the mirror replied.
“If history can serve as an accurate guide.
Because of the things which you are and you do,
The small men around you are jealous of you!”
“That’s certainly true—just think of that weeny
Ted Cruz—but I’d rather think of Mussolini.
I love that big frown as he showed them who’s master!
He just had to blink and the trains would run faster!”
“Or Stalin?” the mirror proposed with a smile.
“Or Hitler? Your voters already shout ‘Heil!’
Jinghiz Khan? He was big and was certainly bad,
or—” “No, mirror—I’ve got it—I’ll go dressed as Vlad!
For seventeen years, he’s been de facto czar
And the polls in his press treat him like a star,
So as history figure, he’ll certainly do
And spooky? scares eastern and west Europe, too!
And, besides, he’s now bff of all my backers,
Supplying the press with the fruits of his hackers,
And, just like me, he’s a man with ideas–
When he wants some Ukraines and maybe Crimeas,
He just slides right in, with coups which are neat—
Boy! Now that is a guy who knows trick and treat!”
“Great idea, as always, you really rock, boss!”
Said the mirror, “but do you mind major hair loss?
Your friend’s nearly bald—no mask you could wear
Could imitate that—would you sacrifice hair?”
“Now, running for president’s been quite a task
Though worth it, but, really, that’s too much to ask!”
And one single teardrop bespangled his tie
As he reached for a large plastic drum of hair dye.
“So what will I go as?” he asked with a frown.
“Attila the Hun? Freddy Kruger? Scary Clown?
Alexander the Great? Or is that too escapist?
I guess I could go as a Mexican rapist
Or—mirror, we forgot to put this on our list—
A Syrian refugee—i.e., terrorist.”
He considered the mirror—his reflection there
Was perfect, from trump tie to acres of hair
And suddenly everything fell into place
And a huge, beaming smile spread over his face.
“I’ve got it!” he said, “Folks, it’s going to be big!
Instead of a mask, or a clown suit, or wig,
I’ll put on an outfit that’ll make people jump
Then hand over their candy—I’ll go as d trump!”