I drive my brand new big black jacked-up truck
into my MAGA neighbor’s side yard grass.
(I hope he won’t decide to kick my ass.)
He looks at me, surprised, says What the f- – -?  

“How ‘bout we light firecrackers for good luck
since the Fourth of July’s about to pass?
Let’s bond like two White lower-middle-class
heterosexual males run amuck.”  

My quite snow-flakey invite draws a sneer.
Firecrackers? Sparklers? Sounds like Hillary.
“But they’re loud and pretty and light the night.
Can’t we share deviled eggs, wave flags, and cheer?”
He lifts aloft a stick of TNT.
Trump’s jailbreak will take some dynamite.