The mayor is in the hotseat…

Pearls of wisdom will not save him,
Now, from the angry. No sleight
Of hand, or smooth practiced
Mannerisms will defer their wrath.
Ice pellets strike the mahogany podium.
A polar vortex surrounds the chambers.
A volume of deceit has been unearthed.
Misdeeds lurk like frightened mice
As they await the starved calico cat.
“Your suit” says an accuser, “Is five
times too large for your rotten soul.”
“A rotten stolen soul,” says another.
“Corruption In Chief should be his title,”
Bellows a disgruntled tax payer.
“And the poor children, now without a
Park!”
Yet, the potholes on the east side of
Town are filled.
Pilfered funds tap lightly on the chamber
Door. The mayor is in the hotseat.