Nobody wants to say for sure, but, chances are that Stupid Boy
Is playing golf in Florida, his trip there, made almost each week,
A gift worth hundreds of thousands of dollars from us to him,
And, in return, he fouls the sky with hydrocarbons, smirks
With fellow oligarchs whose lives depend on such fouled skies,
And, thus, they sternly shake their heads each time someone
Suggests that their pursuit of wealth is killing us.  "The old ways
Are the ones which work.  There is no need for us to change."
I wonder as I look out at the skies so filled with fire smoke that
I can barely see the sun.  The fires are in Canada this week.  They
Pop up everywhere as global warming bakes the earth.  Where
They are, Stupid Boy and all his cronies cannot see the smoke.
They do not hear the people coughing, warnings on the evening
News.  It's quiet on the putting greens, and, far away and out 
Of sight, their profits, like their little balls, roll effortlessly in.