Chicano Poet

Friday, December 07, 2007

Camelot Part Four

Picture John-John and Caroline at the grave,
brave little soldiers.
Jackie immaculate in her stoicism,

a credit unbeknownst to ancient Greece.
The unforeseen is what we fear,
sometimes it’s so near, sometimes it’s so far away.

Which is it? The limousine
flew to through the streets of Dallas
but even at that speed

it could not catch up
with John’s fast fleeting life
as it wended in and out of clouds.

Saint Peter couldn’t be dressed neater
as he announced to God
(who was picking his nose)

the presence of a new arrival.
God climbed down from his bed,
slipped into his furry, pink slippers,

and walked down the hall.
“Oh, it’s him. Yes, yes,
I have a place for him.”

And Saint Peter put John
where the Lord had pointed to---
next to what was left

of the soul of John’s father.
Ah, proof that the soul
indeed wears out.


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