Chicano Poet

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

The Love Song Of J. Henry Defrocked

And what was Ralph Kramden
doing inside of Lucille Ball,
how could he get

his big bus-driving ass
into such a petit redhead,
pregnant, stagnant like New Orleans,

the crazy, pig-wild cops
serve and protect
their violent Nazi instincts?

Ricci Ricardo must have been a nervous,
bearded lion going in circles that resembled squares
stuck in the Fifties.

POW! all the way to the moon, Alice!
But the moon took one step to the left
and Alice floated out of the solar system.

Burnt Norton pulled off his vest,
shook his hat at Ralphie Boy,
yellow T-Shirt Eliot.


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