It was a moderate despair like rain in a cup and not the full blown Titanic. I mean that’s how he lived his life, dripping spots of sorrow onto his wrists to see if it was cool enough to feed the infants or share with anyone, really. Small cups of darkness and a stupid song or two in mind, sometimes sung out loud and sometimes not.
Trump brought the supersized American disdain for decency right to his door. The cup didn’t work anymore. He tried opening the windows, then closing them. He tried old prayers.
He’ll vote of course. He’ll continue to pray for better times.
One thing he knows for sure: the days of middling despair sure were a privilege.