Camelot Part Three

Are these flying fish?
Oh, my God, they’re Cuban ICBMs
heading to Florida by boat.

Khrushchev pounds his shoe
to rail against capitalism
with his imported foot appliance

which has just now arrived from Italy
via courier Louis Simpson
who’s been imagining Whitman along the way.

Robert Frost once coughed
a lonely poem of premonition
and croaked like a frog soon after.

However, John kept his arsenal poised,
his astronauts straddled tomorrow’s rockets,
his women patiently willing rabbits.

His wife shopping or pregnant
and out of his hair
hunkered down in chic New York City fur.

He had his enemies of course
though none of them his conquests.
Sure, he lacked a future, but who doesn’t?