Even the Sheep know clouds cant last

Even Sheep Know Clouds Don’t Last

There will be hell toupee
In the white clouds that
boil over the fanged sheep
into orange thunderheads
that wash away the mill towns;
the mill towns
     that the fanged sheep
                 called their home.

Never mind the shepherd, with
His 4th grade vocabulary and
His Cocooned world view.  
He tells you to eat the mutton.
              So you do.

He obscenes
the obscene
With caustic vapors
That shear your fur.
So you stamp your hooves
In the unison of jackboots.
“Punch him in the face!”
The sheep bah one to another.

He’s going to build a new pen for
You, you know.
With a thirty-foot wall
To protect your privilege,
(As if you needed it.)
The Shepard shoves and shouts
Till sheep salute.
All Salute.
All Hair Donald.