Are We Great Yet?

One year ago I asked ChatGPT to write a 300-word poem about life after Donald Trump's Make America Great plans are completed. Here's an update.

Billboard Greatness

In twenty-eight, the banners wave,
They say the nation’s “strong and brave.”
Gold letters gleam on downtown glass,
And deals move fast—then faster—past.

A ledger speaks in tidy sums:
New plants, new ports, the humming drums.
At borders, floodlights stitch the night,
A promised “order,” hard and bright.

In Minneapolis, winter breath
Turns metal to a finer edge—
Three thousand badges, staged and sworn,
A city “surged” from dusk to morn.

And ICE moves close, a shadow hymn,
Doorways marked, then swallowed dim;
A clipboard, zip-ties, radios—
A street made narrow, heel to toe.

Then comes the phrase that chills the air:
“She impeded—she was there.”
“Stalking,” “harassing,” words like chain,
To make a witness sound like blame.

A citizen, a mother, dead—
A school run finished, then the lead.
The muzzle flash, the broken day,
A nation watching videos play.

They argue what the law allows,
How force can fit inside its vows;
Some prosecutors fold their files,
Some quit in anger, miles and miles.

And on the corners, people learn
That “protest” can become a term—
A charge, a label, paperwork,
A knock at night, a practiced smirk.

In other streets, the “less-lethal” rain
Finds eyes and faces all the same;
Two blinded, they say “close-range,”
And cameras shake, and sirens clang.

The winners toast the calmer screen:
Lower risk, a steadier green.
They buy the dip, they buy the town,
They buy the story going down.

But on the block where paychecks thin,
The math still bites beneath the grin.
Rent climbs the stairs two steps at once,
While wages hobble, out of breath.

The middle holds a fraying rope,
Knots tied from overtime and hope.
They learn new tools, new bots, new charts,
And trade their weekends for their parts.

And still, at night, the porches glow,
With talk of “then” and “now” and “so”—
Some swear the nation found its spine,
Some whisper, “Who gets left behind?”

Greatness blazes, billboard-tall,
A spotlight cutting through the smog—
But when a citizen can fall
For “in the way,” the shadow’s long.