Grand Piano

Robinson was not you and I,
certainly no more Chicano
than Henry or Mr. Bones,

you can’t take the porchlight
and replace it with a star
whose planets circle dead.

There is no constellation in Omaha
whose tail drags Lincoln snow
out of town.

The chair knows Robinson by name.
Who knew furniture would envy
a dog wagging its tail?

Robinson read the paper
and thought that Russia sucked,
he would not be fooled

by the pretty fences they had built.
Drop a grand piano on somebody’s head,
death is not cacophony.