Sarah’s departure from the White House may mean a new, autistic, voice for the White House. Only Don knows who it will be. Art applied for the post,

at last night’s soirée. What a great gig, for a lyrical poet; Don’s press conferences, to host, or alternatively, co-host.

What a great gig, verily! For a lyrical poet; press conferences, to host, or co-host. Sarah’s departure from the White House may mean for Don,

an autistic, voice, anew. One whose hands know not to shake the shaking hand, of Don. To avoid, the Don-toxin, of The Don.

Don-toxin. A derivative of Vladimir’s deadly, Novichok, neuro, toxin. Closely guarded is the rogue state Russian secret; the Russian,
formulation.

To Russian President Vlad’s great, chagrin. When Don won’t put a sock in it, for Vlad’s, charmingly, disarming, Russians.

Only in America may one, in one day, rise from a humble More-Mart store greeter, to become, on the following day, spokesman, for the President.

Forget not to remember, Arthur reminds himself, not, to shake his hand. To need not be … pardoned, by the President.

To need not ever be in dire need of a pardon from the President forget not to remember, not to shake his hand. Only in America may one

in one day rise from a greeter, to become on the following day, spokesman for the President, more likely; he’s not the one.

More likely, Art may be deemed to be less qualified than the she or the he that replaces the irascible, Sarah. Arthur shall not be, the chosen one.

The one saving best face for the President before an ascendant, fifth estate. Arthur Everman’s, not the one.

Arthur. The singularly best possible saving face for the President before an ascendant, fifth estate, shan’t be the one to fill Sarah’s vacancy, chosen.

Arthur’s not all that. He lives on the 3rd floor of a 5th estate for seniors. A hotbed, of revolution.