Does Donald Trump believe that laws should not apply to him?
He certainly acts like that, while disciples sing his hymn.
Intimidating jurors, warned and fined to no effect,
Trump keeps on showing us his personality defect.

Trump always does just what he wants ‘til someone makes him stop.
He’ll go on shooting off his mouth, from courthouse and rooftop.
His jury’s been impaneled now; the judge enforced the law.
The arguments that Donald made were just a house of straw. (1)

Trump plays the “air accordion;” when he is telling lies.
Complaining about everything, a “tell” we recognize.
Hand motions tell he’s lying; everybody’s used to that.
Trump’s so frustrated he might not remain the fattest cat.

The thought of rules he must obey: anathema to Trump.
A judge who has a Spanish name is in control, as ump.
Merchan is calling balls and strikes; Trump’s motions are denied.
To hear that he’s been overruled, Trump simply can’t abide.

On Monday, we will hear, “Play ball!” Each side will make its pitch.
(As witnesses tell what they know, Trump’s hemorrhoids will itch.)
Between the innings, Trump will say that all Bragg’s strikes were balls (2)
But Trump’s opinions do not count; the judge makes all the calls.

Trump says that he will testify but he’s said that before.
Against Miss E. Jean Carroll, we saw Donald fail to score.
His problem is we know him well; his life, a giant fraud.
And now he has to deal with facts; he can’t win with façade.

As Donald Trump is put on trial, shit will hit the fan.
A fecal mist will likely splatter on Trump’s orange tan.
On trial, Donald sleeps and wakes, perhaps from a nightmare.
Could Trump’s disturbing dream be that the jury will be fair?

(1) See “The Three Little Pigs,” a nineteenth century English fairytale of uncertain authorship.
(2) Alvin Bragg, the Manhattan DA, who filed the charges against Trump.