9491. THE LAST FANDANGO IN ALSACE-LORRAINE

THE LAST FANDANGO IN 

ALSACE-LORRAINE

That was going to be the story of my fictional

autobiography, along with some commentary by

one of the Wright Brothers, but it never got off

the ground. Ideas come, and ideas will go.

So, instead, I was left with Lindbergh's

checkbook, in my empty hands.

-

She used to be a coal-miner's daughter, but

I changed all that. The stories some started

telling, well, some of them were true, and

I'd acknowledge a portion, but then, no, I

never did that stuff. The Lusitania sunk on

its own, nothing to do with me, bombs and

firepower and all that. Same with the

Titanic : I mean, I've made ice in a tray

for drinks, but, come on, please.

-

The rest of all this is fable anyway, although

I did really know Br'er Rabbit. It was a nice

time, those months we spent together. Until

Jiminy Cricket came along. He made fools

of all that slavery and black stuff : leave it

to 'Americans' and their home-grown snuff

to cover over truth and beauty in the real.

-

Disney-Schmisney, you can' find that in

Home Depot. Or Barnes and Noble either.

The only place that's good for truth is that

padlocked thing they used to call home. 

Now it's all torn down and paved over, and

the real estate is hawking lots to build on

where your front lawn used to be.

-

Ghosts and boll-weevils. Bullets and 

mandarins. Bonnie and Clyde on the 

Pepsi-Cola can, and wines from vineyards 

named for murderers and thieves. It's all

so crazy now, and it seems unjust. Oh, yeah,

that Jiminy Cricket I mentioned, he made

fools of all of us.