HARD RIDING GENTLEMEN
Ten hundred moustaches wagging, with
fifteen walruses singing away, and the priest
from St. Anselm's dwarfs by. He is singing
a Kyrie with a bottle in his hand. Bent over
from cosmic fatigue, he says he finds
Jesus still carries intrigue. The last
coach just left the driveway ramp.
-
I channeled Nelson Eddy from some
Eden in the hay. I bungled Joe DiMaggio
with a heater. These are not the things I
would confess to, mind you, but just
the things I say. How many sunrises,
really, am I supposed to withstand?
-
My father was from a captive nation.
He died with freedom in his hand.
My mother was a house-nurse,
carrying forth a torch for the
homeless and infirm - all that
slick valuation, and not a
thing to show for it now.
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