Rum runner, rum runner, runaway rum.
Julia says there’s Daddy and his wife, Mommy.  

More again! More again!
Sarah decrees and Peepaw pops
up and down in the pool
never in the same place
neither of them losing momentum.  

It’s too far to walk yet again
to toilets at the clubhouse.
It’s okay Mommy says.
Sarah squats, peeing honestly
through a swimsuit silhouetted
against ocean on a beach
where unkindness is a crime.  

Oh, Donald,
if you hadn’t been too rich
to raise your own kids
you would have had golden showers
more than you can imagine.