Supreme Court Blues
Alito, Scalia and Thomas, amigos, Tres
Hombres tricked out in flowing black robes,
sequestered, aloof they pass breezy days
in pinched, narrow reading of our original tome.
Corporations they say are nothing but people
plain folk who cry tears and bleed red just like us
the Capital dome soon replaced by a steeple
when they throw separation under the bus.
Best not to jaywalk, don’t loiter, absently pick at your nose
you’ll get more than a fine or slap on the wrist
they’ll cuff you, take a swab then strip off your clothes,
Clarence, he'll sneak a peak at the ladies, creepy Originalist tryst.