MEIR KAHANE IS DEAD
When Meir Kahane was shot and killed,
I was looking the other way - a crowd of
people, one loose gunman, Marriot Hotel,
Lexington Ave., and all the rest. The guy
ran off, tried to subdue a cab, and then
turned instead and shot a cop. In the chest,
this cop instead of going down stayed up,
shot back, and got his man. Carlos Acosta
shot the shooter in the chin. El Sayyid Nosair.
He always sounded like an airline to me.
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Well, well, that's the way these things transpire:
quickly, like the world's a'fire; same with Robt.
Kennedy in that basement kitchen L.A. hotel.
Down in an instant; Sirhan Sirhan wrestled
to the floor and kept in place forevermore.
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Ideology has a way of not crimping the
ideologue's style - instead it adds impetus
and pushes him along. Things occur, as it
seems without plan, yet years later all of
it turns out to be part of a great scheme.
Everything was marked and counted.
Everything done and delivered.
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