III

God-like
in goggles
dressed like
Forrest Gump running
after an ice cream truck.

Dante got it right. We
are doomed. Don’t you think,
Mr. President?

Excuse me, I must get a rocket-
ship and shoot the moon. Elvis
would be my Virgil in a white
flash suit and pompadour
roaming a red bulb light a
velvet hell, I’d rather be
absurd, a bobblehead
nods in a seizure of excitement.

                                                  9 August 2003