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.
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