The Fake’s Progress.

The Fake’s Progress

(Inspiration from Igor Stravinsky, and his Opera, “The Rake’s Progress)

He came to California,

With a Rake in his small hands;

Discovered his hermetic plane

Had just one place to land.

A field of Federal forest,

Turned to ash by flame;

The only spot without fire,

To show his Orange mane.

The Fake dismounted his steel steed,

No mask, no pussy he.

The towns, the people all did bleed,

Those that did not flee.

The Fake, a Shadow o’er his eyes,

Looked at his forest floor.

The Rake, held high above his head,

Was all they’d get — no more.

“Use your rakes,” the Fake did shout,

“The fires are but your fault. “

And when the wind heard this dumb lout,

It roared a new assault.

Fire-nadoes burst from the sky,

The Fake had a great scare.

Then 14,000 lightening strikes,