Saturday, February 26, 2011

An old poem to JFG, executed by the State of Texas

The Last Words of JFG, Executed by the Citizens of Texas

As an astronaut on the launchpad
About to jettison beyond this world
Thinks of himself at the podium

In a cutting-edge tux, thousands
Of envious earthlings seated
In a halfcircle, a halfwheel

Of worship, the hub to receive
The highest honor, about to be
For a minute or two an angel,

He thinks of the bible meek,
The guy next door, bowling
Trophy and fishing rod won

At the Big Bass Open on Big Bear
Lake, blowups of a motorcycle
Trip to the mountains, the special

Kickstand his friend designed—
Machinist, or whatever he was
So he didn’t go to jail.  He was

The child at the dinner-table
Choked up on saying, then blurting
The unforgivable during grace,

Or a small town mayor at the club,
Or a shoe salesman goofing off
While tallying the day’s receipts,

Or he raped and murdered a nun,
And wants to thank his mother and father
For the chance, which, once upon a time,

They were happy to have given him,
And then—to those of us in the know—
"The rest of the world can kiss my ass."

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