a pall is cast upon the land. we are appalled. at a certain point it becomes a foregone conclusion, when the cancer overwhelms the host. this we might call the final trump. it was already the land of the trump. now they have acknowledged it by putting his rictus smile on the coin of the realm. it's real, now, it's reality tv. on the streets will it be martial law, or revolution. 
i woke this morning thinking, i don't know who the president is, the first thing they ask to see if you are non compos mentis. then i learned and i wanted to return to the land of sleep, that other realm, the one that keeps me sane. when i got to the park sam was sitting with a bag of cigarette butts on the chess table with the morning edition of the new york times and asked, do you you know who the president is? i didn't have the heart to tell him.