After the first glass, you see things as you wish they were.
After the second, you see things as they are not.
Finally, you see things as they really are,
and that is the most horrible thing in the world.
― Oscar Wilde
Suppose Trump did drink.
In vino, veritas. In wine, truth.
Just a thought. A hope.
A dream.
At the very least,
he might get more sleep.
Asleep, children
will still be caged,
journalists
will still hear the bone saws.
Asleep, no tweets. No lies.
Awake, a humanitarian crisis
in the White House.
Drunk,
at least he’d have an excuse.
I’d rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy.
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