salvador dalí ballet russe de monte carlo

What’s with this grand ballet between Vlad and Don?
The ballet is Russian, but Don has caught on.

Vlad – sometimes, “The Impaler” – is primer danseur, of course.
Terpsichore’s quiet, but she is the source.

The white swans are aghast, for this is their domain.
The black swans pretend to share in their pain.

Balletomanes stir in anticipation.
They hope to see a new sensation.

All the world’s a-quiver
They expect the starts to deliver.

Putin enters with a grand jetté.
The applause comes through with a grand, “Olé!”

Donald follows in his tight tutu.
He finds pirouetting, thusly, difficult to do.

The corps de ballet then fills the stage.
Vladimir, overshadowed, begins to rage.

It is his show, for sure;
It is he whom they all adore.

Now comes the pas de deux,
Danced to, “Nel Blu, dipinto di Blu.”

Don discovers he’s a ballerina;
Wonders if he still has his weena.

The swans return to their lake.
Don dashes through the rain to his cake.

Putin remains to take all the applause.
From the beginning, that was his main cause.

Rain soaked Donald, upon his return,
Finds everyone gone, and nil did he earn.

The lesson here is never to kiss the ass
Of a brazen bully with balls of brass.

For Donald, there’s ne’er but to drag it home
And expose his ass on the Capitol dome!

Curtis W. Long

Curtis W. Long

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