A SONNET ON TRUMP AND HIS TARIFFS
In days of yore, when prices held their sway,
And foreign goods were cheap, a tempting lure,
A grumpy soul, with dreams of yesterday,
Declared, “These imports, I cannot endure!”
He pictures factories, empty and forlorn,
All thanks to imports, flooding every shore.
He dreams of days when tariffs would be born,
Though prices much like eagles would then soar.
His arguments, a tangled, twisted thread,
Of “national pride” and “keeping money here.”
He’d rather pay three times the price, he said,
Than buy a bargain, bringing him such fear.
So let him cling to notions obsolete,
The world moves on, while he courts defeat.
Unseen 4 days ago.
