FIDEL CASTRO'S ONLY SON
Something nice had held my hand.
Perhaps a tropical thing or some
ground-crawling creeper. I didn't
know but I was transfixed. Fireworks
went off overhead; one or another of
those endless American holidays.
Elian Gonzalez, for those who remember,
was forcibly returned to his homeland.
Chiseling gunmen, in American employ,
ripped him from the arms of his uncle.
It's a bad story, and it sill continues.
He's probably 35 by now, or older. I don't
know what he looks like or how he speaks.
Perhaps he's smart. Perhaps he smokes
cigars and drives a '56 Chevy along the
streets of Havana. I just wouldn't know.
I never know what anyone wants : stars and
stripes forever, songs and cheers, the star-
spangled banner sung by geeks and eunuchs?
What' America for, if not for that? It's soon
to be the Fourth of July. (Yipee!)