I've got less than fifteen minutes.  How much should I try
To say?  The day's been hot and mediocre.  Winds blew
Trash into the pool.  It took an hour to remove it.  I got
My car's oil changed ahead of our long trip out to a town,
Called Elma, to be reunited with my spouse's family.  
Every God-damned story in the news has got an image
Of that make-up slathered, moron bully.  Every story
Also shows that all the world's filled with weaklings
Who drop to their backs for him.  I smile, recollecting 
Lenin, who observed that business owners happily
Would sell us all the rope we'd need to strangle them.
It's bound to happen.  I need patience, but the fifteen
Minutes I once had is wholly gone.