The president has
a plebian palate,
call it bad taste,
just a mouth, an orifice
on his face —
fried food galore
and fast food
more and more
and, of course,
no exercise and
obviously no taste.
Saving the nation may
come down to this,
finely cooked
shrimp, muscles and
fresh fish,
Julia Child, butter,
more butter, more butter,
spices and herbs
such as fresh garlic and mint
baked goods, grilled, roasted,
broiled steak, lamb and chicken.
Our determination we will quicken;
we shall drive him
from the White House
with gastronomic
faces of omnivorous flint
and wish him well
after what we all hope
will be a very short stint
as our sub-plebian gastronomic
president without
rudimentary knowledge of
anything culinary eloquent.