Folks, I'm not looking for anyone's symp',
But I think you'll agree my case puts a crimp
In my style, my stride, my job and finances,
Not to mention four in-progress romances,
Because the guys at Homeland thought me a danger:
Yes, me! A guy practically born in a manger!
.
My sad story begins with an honest jay-walk,
Honest, I say, 'cause I was having a talk
With our nervous town mayor, telling him true
It's not anti-semitic to sneeze "a-JEW!"
This at town meeting, to the horror of all,
And he faces impeachment if not disembowel.
.
Busy reassuring, I traversed a crosswalk,
And focused on bringing him to earth with my talk
Didn't notice that my step fell outside
The painted white stripes that govern our stride.
Whistles! Shouts! "Keep your hands where I can see 'em!"
For such are the lessons of the cop lyceum.
.
Our city's finest a body-cam wore,
And showed me in the act of jaywalking gore:
My toe was outside by the length of a tick.
"Outrageous!" I said. "That's fully ridic'!"
"Out is out,"he declared, "for both you and me.
I moonlight as line-judge for the ATP."
.
So for the flagrant jaywalk did I get booked,
And he threw in Resisting for how miffed I looked.
"Resisting arrest? I did nothing at all!"
"No: that's what you get for challenging my call."
Well, not only I challenged but innocent pled,
Got witnesses, lawyers and prepared to him shred.
.
But I never got my redemption in court,
For three steps from the courtroom I was stopped short,
By those heavies from Homeland who on the 'cuffs snapped,
Since now illegals and resisters are rapt
To El Salvador's prisons, there to repent
For challenging the calls of those heaven-sent.
.
So here I sit clothed in white diapers and bald,
Learning Spanish, my lawyer's appeal quite stalled,
Though the judge has ordered my return to court,
That a full jury truth from fiction might sort,
But Prez Don decreed that the judge is a putz:
And his rulings on Homeland just pains in their butts.
(Article changed on May 15, 2025 at 1:19 PM EDT)
