One of the things that hung over many of us in the 70s was Kennedy’s assassination. John’s. Robert Kennedy’s assassination, in hindsight, was almost expected. It was like they hadn’t finished their job. Many of us had become pretty cynical after that day in Dallas. Kennedy’s death ended our love affair with America. A mother that would eat her own. It affected everything. The future seemed to have turned on itself. Planning was a slow form of suicide. We lived for the moment. And it was unhealthy.


A Beer and a Cigarello

Sitting in a patio. Slugging back beer. Feathers like rain. Fell from the sky. A flock of Canada geese. Heading south. Had been disrobed. Inside a 707’s engine. As the jet charged toward the earth. Michael swore. ‘Can’t you hear all those people. Screaming.’

It was in all the newspapers. Michael bought a package of potato chips. An ambulance rushed by. Sandra. My sister. Grew her red hair for years. In a cage. Meant for doves. Hanging from the dining room ceiling. Her dead hair. Kept falling into the soup.

Young Lenin. Standing. On a wooden box. Meant for oranges. Announced the beginning. Of a new day. While Marcus Aurelius wept in the rain. Complaining. ‘We’ve got to quit repeating ourselves.’ Bring on the vestments. Bring on the sacraments. Leave me alone with the flower girls.

Another round. Helped myself to one of Michael’s. Cigarellos. Rum taste. ‘i am the minister of the self. The self is our God. Freud is his prophet. Let’s get the rift raft off the streets. Lets charge the advertising agents. As liars. Lets make the mafia. Eat cement. Let’s return to the Ptolemaic System. Bring out the Christian god. Drag the coward out by the hair. Strap into a limousine. We’ll do a little tour of Dallas.

Headed out. Using the usual. Housewives as my pulling guards. At the subway station. Pigeons cued up for handouts. An old woman sat on a bench. Loneliness hung. Like old stockings around her ankles. Lips were chapped. Eyes burnt out. Worms were in formation. Death was laying siege. She smiled. Like God. Casting out her crumbs.

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