Joe misplaced his thinking cap, his thoughts went astray.
Suddenly clueless, he could think of nothing to say.
He furrowed his brow, he thunk really hard.
He couldn’t make the connection, he was such a retard.
He corralled a few thoughts, he spat them out.
Nobody knew what the hell he was talking about.
He thought even harder, smoke poured from his ears.
He was still sitting there stupidly when the smoke cleared.
Chasing his thoughts was like grasping at straws.
Or talking in circles to his wife’s greedy inlaws.
He needed his teleprompter to tell him he was okay.
But it was on the fritz, like his brain was today.
He was in a pickle, with no train of thought.
He looked down at his feet, boy was he on the spot.
He finally squeezed out a few ehs, ers and duhs.
A fleeting thought struck him, what a mess his mind was.
The crowd watched him silently, they’d seen this before.
Brandon kept looking stage left, towards the door.
He sat a few moments longer, blank stare in his eyes.
Then slowly, unsteadily, he started to rise.
Then he did what he does, he made his break for the door.
Without looking back, he shuffled right off the floor.
No questions, no answers, what could he say.
His brain failing him, happened more every day.
The press conference over, the reporters all spurned.
It had become routine with Biden, nothing was learned.
D.L. Crockett — 8/2/22