Middle Class [in Just-]

[Donald Q.]

Just before-
Black Friday    when paper buckle hats
and rotting pumpkins
line the curb
 
The wind-driven               balloonMan                      writhes with glee
 
and it’s as-if-he-took Abilify with
all-the-would-be poets     Saying 'poets' here seems a bit too specific, maybe just 'artists' ? not sure. 
zonked on propylhexedrine and A reader naturally slows down to read the name, so why not mirror the previous lines and have 'pro-pyl-hexe-drine' , could work?
akathisia’s the final diagnosis and it's-
fall 
 
when everybody
hears the chalk-board scraping, metaphor-of-reaping                nails of death
in chill-
             toward
                          winter turbulence
(But all the seasons soon will die
                                                                so it’s spring.)
 
JoeWinstonandRaul                        are honking on the 605      This and the end of the previous stanza are where the line breaks get a bit too much for me
They’re racing home to meet unceasing gift-filled drones  Not sure about word choice 'drones' 
and it’s after Turkey Day                 the bar code scanners don’t need clerks   'Turkey day' is a nice way to put it
 
and the organ-
less
spasmodic balloonMan
feels no lack or pain but smiling with a palpitating chest
beckons
them
to buy
used Fords   These line breaks at the end are lovely; you really tumble into the inevitable end [or Fall into it (groan)]

Overall I loved your poem, it's a few tiny tweaks away from being bloody fantastic. Captures a nice autumn mindset + who doesn't like a balloon man.