I’ve often been married; sometimes scratch an itch.
When I see something tasty, I move on it like a bitch.
Melania once led the pack, but above her
Is now Kim Jong-un, people — he’s my new lover.
I tried to be tough and, of course, so did he.
But then we wrote back and forth, romantically.
The letters he sent me meant it was eventual
My feelings toward him would turn unpresidential.
He showed me a side of him I’d not been seein’.
At least I think so, since he wrote in in Korean.
I wrote back to him in my big Sharpie scrawl;
Said I’d be his sweetheart if he’d be my all.
He lives in a foreign land far, far away so
Affectionate tokens sent through Mike Pompeo:
An Elton John CD (‘twas “Honky Château”).
We haven’t made love yet — we’re taking it slow.
In previous couplings, I’ve been quite direct.
I see something luscious, I soon get erect.
Come up to my room — next move: bathrobe; I’m in it.
Then lovemaking launches, for one or two minutes.
But this time around, my approach has been coy.
Our love slowly fermenting, just like bok choi.
His skin is so soft and his hands have no calluses.
We’ll take time before seeing each other’s phalluses.
My love for another man is something new;
Perhaps I’ll poll better with LGBQ.
I’m so into him and therefore I assume he
Feels likewise. If not: I hope he doesn’t screw me.
The Trump Poems 