Truck beds are for fish, dogs, or dry wall

There is no way to slow time

The father of us all

Absent father at that

Siring little bastards from sea to shining sea. 

Even words vacuumed from pages

Into this swirling orifice

Smaller and smaller

'Til too many and too small to read. 

People have tried everything from Retin-A to Rogaine

To a mixture of Vodka and Valium

Ponce de Leon or was it Vasco de Gama

Searched for the fountain of youth. 

Then there's alcohol - fountain of age

But at least you can taste it going down

What an asshole he must have been

But no more perhaps than other entrepreneurs. 

Speculating and not finding

But continuing the crusade

Until the queen's money was spent

Underestimating how universal the laws of time are. 

He was playing with fire

No with the sun

There is not a law for those who drink A

And another for those who drink B.

There’s one for us all

So drink up- and shut up

           

He clutched the flowers to his chest

Imagining it all to be different

She had not gone restless and found her way to Florida

Necessity had not demanded she sell her body.

And the man who had just called

Had not told him she was dead in his arms

Yes and JFK was back in Camelot

RFK still catching his passes.

The good old paternal order of America

Was still blowing up Marilyn Monroe's skirt

And MLK was peacefully resisting

In the Lorraine Motel.

That sort of thinking was good

For a few minutes, or even hours

But as the effect wears off

You’re scratching six inches from your head. 

When Roosevelt died in Georgia

A slow train had brought him back north

And thousands lined the tracks

Gloria would come north in a box.

A box provided by the great state of Florida

In the bed of a late-model Ford pickup

Truck beds are for fish, dogs, or dry wall

Not for daughters.

           

His little girl, the blonde

Had talked of being president one day.

Talked openly of her ambition

The straight As all through high school

Might as well have been Ds or Fs

This message to parents everywhere:

A does not mean always

It might just mean afterthought

Asshole for believing the myth

Or maybe afterlife.

What would they do with the videotapes? 

Squander the film like it was another life?

Why not, you only live twice

Once for real and once on your loved ones' VCR. 

Easter dresses and Halloween faces

Marching to Pomp and Circumstance

What a cruel joke, the camcorder had been

They should cast it in the sea of forgetfulness.  

You never watch what is captured

And if you do, those you love stare into the camera and mock

Like washing your hair at grandmas

Seeing your big nose in her Delta faucet. 

No video cameras show up in Funeral Homes

Death shows its credentials at the door

No subterfuge or false hope or preening for the camera 

No green shaving cream turning foamy white.

Go down Gloria, down by the river Jordan

And be baptized with John and the other disciples. 

Take flight little dove and light on the shoulder of Jesus

My daughter in whom I am well pleased

Before I forget all the scripture

I have ever read and believed - be gone. 

Crank up the old Duster and glide into the southern heat

Not looking back - the way you did not before

Call me with the little calling card

We bought you at Wal-Mart when you get halfway there. 

And then again when you get there

And dial it direct

Let it ring twice

And we'll know it's you and not a telemarketer.

Here take this testament

And this sack of half dollars with you

Use them if you get lost or better yet

Turn around any time and drive back home. 

No one ever seems to die

On the way to see the family doctor

You died on the way to a heart specialist

My darling, it must have been your time.