In times of political and planetary turmoil, it is always easy
To write poems about the likes of mad old Donald or his
Surrogate mini-me, all blonde hair and a bombshell just
Waiting to detonate a lot of Latin nonsense, but sometimes
It’s just enough to let go. Letting my mind drift to all the
Other kinds of arses; there are a couple of nubile, young sexy
Arses that I see walking away from my counter at work and
I’m mesmerised by their swagger and on occasion when I want to
Switch off I tend to think of those gorgeous shapely arses
Rather than the kind of arseholes that are apparently in charge.