rerider

Next to Ginsberg
I sat next to Ginsberg in the Sacred Heart,
saw King Fahed being ushered into the ER
wrapped in a pink blanket to disguise him,
he pee'd on my friend in the ICU.
Jack Nicholson ordered coffee from me once
at the Little America Truckstop in Flag,
a pack of cigarettes rolled up
in the sleeve of his black t-shirt
(then he started marrying waitresses).
I lived next door to a man that was
beheaded for building Apaches.
My husband ran into Gene Hackman at the Taj Majal
and Elvira let him encircle her for a picture
down in Atlanta at a convention.
Someone I know told me Goldie Hawn was a real bitch
in a five star hotel and Kurt was as handsome
as he was in The Computer Wore Tennis Shoes
(which I mistakenly called, The Computer War Tennis Shoes)
and Steve Pearl told me the Dalai Lama would visit
the city park and I hoped to be able to pet him.


A poem about ignorance and destiny. Sad but merry at the end there.
In Memory of Paul Johnson, beheaded by Al Qaeda operatives
in Riyadh. It seems many years ago now.