WHAT A LASTING CROCK
The red light was blinking numbers
at me through the morning rain.
The old men were talking a history
of war - and then I realized I was
probably older than them. '29, Cold
Spring, I heard - battles of war
over and over again. What's all
the use of this anyway? 'Move
on' the white man said. The
gray hair was nodding off.
-
Eisenhower never took a vacation.
Truman was holding his cards.
The best years ever were the ones
when Lon Cheney impersonated
Lyndon Johnson - and no one
knew. Six years in the White House
and we all didn't know. What a
lasting crock of everything
this soiled life is.
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