Chicano Poet

Friday, May 13, 2005

Henry’s Elegy For George Harrison

Henry got the magnifying glass
and shouted with joy,
“That’s him, that’s him!

It’s John, it’s John Lennon!”
In a Mexican minute
Henry composed himself,

no, he didn’t compose himself
in a song or a poem,
he composed his composure.

John looked up and said
“alright, lads, you done found me,
where are the other lads?”

Mr. Bones blurted right out,
“They're on tour, Paul and Ringo,
George had died, you know?”

John did not know
and he was crestfallen,
and the Yellow Submarine turned pale,

the Magical Mystery Tour
lost its magic,
Shea Stadium shed its cheering crowds.

Henry pulled the magnifying glass away.
Mr. Bones had a tear in his eye
the size of everything.


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