Trump Tells Freshman Congresswomen to ‘Go Back’ to the Countries They Came From

I'm going back to those spring-fed streets
where blue igloos and red fingernails mean something.
a place that welcomes back sidewalk weary vagabonds,
with plastic bags and iced latex.
a host of reasons impel me to leave this place;
such as the dull air and the faux cobblestones.
that shoes come in boxes is an affront to my conscience.
and the people I have to deal with are no better than hepcats.
back home the quail have quilled already, and the hills are
alive with the sound of mimeographs.
they know how to treat a person back there.
and the skies are not twittered all day.