JFK

A dancer twirls on top of a musical box

and spins round and round in a loop.

A child pulls the string of a doll that talks.

A TV anchor spins a web of half-truths and lies

while his soul

withers and dies.

The TV commercials run. Get your online degree

and change your life

between the pratfalls of Andy and Barney Fife.

An old friend of mine from Dallas, the nephew of CIA cowboy

and assassin, Rip Robertson,

would tell me stories about visiting Miami

and New Orleans when he was a boy

and playing baseball in a vacant lot

and about his uncle landing on the beach at the Bay of Pigs.

‘What did your uncle say

about the death of JFK?’ I asked.

In an alcoholic blackout, my friend replied, ‘Good shot’.