(Paul Manafort)
I have lived an otherwise blameless life:
Worked for autocrats; cheated on my wife.
Was in debt to a Russian oligarch.
My bite known to be so much worse than my bark.
I made wardrobe choices that some folks call “pampered.”
With a witness to crimes there’s a chance that I tampered.
I always was able to bounce back from loss, which
I made very clear with a coat made of ostrich.
Some checks for my taxes I may have left blank,
And tried to get fraudulent loans from a bank.
Seems I never filed as a foreign lobbyist.
A backchannel to Putin? Here’s where Abu Dhabi is.
My arrest ended life of immense wealth and ease;
How fitting I’ve got gout: the “rich man’s disease.”
I lied without end to the prosecutors,
And therefore lost access to jailhouse computers.
And yet, despite all my connections unsavory,
I’ve got Donald Trump long admiring my bravery.
And even to the most casual onlooker
The judge in this case I appear to have snookered.
A sentence not measured in years, but in months.
That judge could have tackled me, and yet – he punts.
But joy at this outcome perhaps is short-lived, see?
Next week: tougher judge; so let’s see what she gives me.
The Trump Poems 