President Nincompoop

Me thought he vas evil

Me thought he vas bad

Me thought trumpy vas noxious

Me thought he vas mad

Me thought he vas a nazi

Me thought he sought power

Me thought he vas doughy

From way too much white flour

Turns out I vas wrong

Turns out I… vell, I missed the scoop

Trumpy none of the above

Trumpy simply a nasty racist nincompoop

Yes, he be our president today

And vill be sad to say for a while

But vee may as well sit back

Relax, smoke some dope and smile

Let the yellow-haired pudgy-faced

Baboon strut and shit and bleat

Let him lie with whores pigs

And dictators, let trumpy tweet

In zee end his abysmal approval numbers

Will falter drop and droop

And America will sing,

“Adios, sayonara, arrividerci, President Nincompoop.”

Wild Bill

Your father?

I nod

She gives me that look of concern

And why not

The old man’s looking beyond ancient

And mostly absent

How old?

94

But who’s keeping score

You’re either dead

Or alive

Writhing in pain

Or on top o the world

Ah, so you’re a philosopher

She says

I smile

And say no

A Life Coach

And excavator of

Truth morsels

And then add

You either have your marbles

Or

Like WB here

You don’t

WB–William Brown

Though his six boys

Wise

Asses all

Dubbed him

Wild Bill

Decades ago

Wild Bill Simpson–

Hair trigger temper

Could go off on you

Like an M-80

With a short fuse

Especially after a nip or two of the

Brown

Old Granddad

Wild Turkey

Jack Daniel’s

Bourbon–tho really any kinda likker– was like

Gas-o-lean on a fire

In Wild Bill’s belly

Interesting

She asks

He’s your father

I would’ve thought your

Grandfather

I glance at her and think

What’s this crazy horse dribble

Then I give a second

And a third glance

No youngster she

Fifty or closing fast

But very well preserved

Botox smooth

Body shaped by loads of salads

With no or little dressing

And daily torture sessions at

Stay Slim Forever

Or some other ship-shape center

No ring

Divorced

Maybe

Looking for fun

Or a sugar daddy

All this takes

Like a nanosecond of my life

To conjure up

Consider

Contemplate

A nanosecond

What’ll I do with the rest of my time

On earth

What’ll I think about

What has Wild Bill been thinking about

For 94 years

What have all the billions of us been thinking about

Sex

Food

Money the

Rape and

Torture of

Young African girls torn from their families

By beasts on two legs

That mole on our neck perhaps the

Dreaded melanoma mole the

Mole of death

We read about in People

While waiting to have our root canaled

Billions of us thinking

And 99.9% of us not thinking about diddily

Squat

Just sucking up oxygen

Consuming resources

Polluting the air

With our bad food farts

And Jeep

Wranglers

How long’s his memory been shot

The divorcee asks next

An assertive one

Bold and frank

No nonsense

Probably new

Learned characteristics

Since she dumped her guy

Or

More likely

He dumped her

For some fresh tangy

Poontang

All so predictable

And sad

Or maybe humorous or maybe my

Assumptions are

Complete and utter bullshit

Endlessly amazing the assumptions we make

About one another

Even spouses

Hell

Even about ourselves

Wild Bill sits

On a stone bench

In that peaceful and pleasant

Rose garden

Just outside the dementia ward

Here at Fellowship Village

On the hill

An old fogies’ home

For well-heeled

Christian

White folk

A bigot

And sexist

His whole live long life

The whole wild ride history of America

Microcosm-ed

In Wild Bill

His death

Me likes to think

Will be the end of all that

Racist

Sexist baloney

Though I’m obviously a mindless idiot

I didn’t see

Feel or

Hear the Age of Thump

Descending upon us

Like a meteor from deep space

What did he do

She asks

Marine

I tell her

On the Joint Chiefs under Reagan

She’s impressed

With my Thumpian lie

My utterance with no grounding

In reality

And I wonder

Not for the first time

What life would be like

Without untruths

Without falsehoods

If we were somehow programmed

To only mutter the truth

That existed in our brains

And hearts

And souls

Wild Bill was

In fact

A Marine

World War Two

The South Pacific

Guam

Saipan

Bougainville

Landing on those crappy little coral islands

So utterly useless throughout all of

Human history

But during those years

Those war years

Vital real estate

Killing fields

Landing on those islands

By sea

In the face of Jap machine gun fire

He played his role

In saving the western world

From the Nazi/Jap menace

Encountered terrible suffering

Pain

Torture

Gunshot wounds

Dengue fever

Malaria

Mayhem

Body parts of his

Comrades

Blown off and scattered to kingdom come

Death

And more death

Came home

To his wife

Who he hadn’t seen

For three years

Had six kids

In ten years

All boys

Including me

Dealt with the whole mess without ever

Uttering a word about it

As though

It hadn’t happened

Built a successful business

Employed twenty

Thirty people

Treated them reasonably well

Pissed off and irritable

A good deal of the time

Moody as mountain weather

The war

Or just his temperament

His kids never knew

Played some tennis

Cooked some steaks on the grill

Bought and sold this and that

Voted Republican

Stated his position

With gusto

Maybe diddled some girls

Other than his wife

Or at least thought about it

Who knows

I don’t know

The old man was

Is

And undoubtedly forever will be

A mystery to me a

Conundrum

Some of my older siblings

Have long had hard-ons

For the guy

Too tough

Too ornery

Too quick

On occasion

With the back of his hand

Demanding

And controlling

He’d mellowed by the time

I came along

Mellowed and fattened up his

Bank account

I actually liked the guy

Had some good times with him

Some long talks

On long walks

About what might be worth doing

During our time

Here on earth

Maybe that’s why

I’m hanging with him here in the Rose Garden today

Mom’s gone

At 84

After 66 years smoking butts

Kents in the crush proof box

Her lungs finally said sayonara

Baby

Wild Bill’s brain checked out

Soon after Mom passed

He couldn’t deal with life without his

Girl

No way

She was his heart

His cannonball fired into the future

They fought tooth and nail

Every live long day of their long married lives

But still

Something

Something

Existed between them

A marriage

Something no one else can ever

Know

Or penetrate

Or understand

Was he happy

She

The divorcee

Wants to know

Who

I ask

To buy time

Your father

I think

And finally say

Was he happy

Hell

I don’t know

I honestly don’t know

Is anyone

A cloud passes in front of the sun

Wild Bill frowns

He may not know

Me

His own son

He may not know himself or

Remember much if anything of his

Long history or that

Our ancestor arrived in

America

On the Mayflower

A fact

Or maybe a myth

That has always been important to him

An integral part of who he was

Or thought he was

But still he wants

Needs the

Warmth and

Cosmic love of the

Sun

Which shines again on his

Withered

Old

Face

Bringing a soft smile

To such a hard man

Happiness

I tell this woman who has been the object of my

Ongoing fantasies

For the past few minutes is having

Someone

Or even some thing

To love

Her turn to smile softly now

And then a moment later

The door opens

And a nurse pushes an ancient

Vacant-eyed woman

Out into the Rose Garden

And my new friend

My new cohort

My accomplice in this reckoning between

Happiness and

Love

Youth and

Old age

Gently squeezes the old woman’s tiny

Wrinkled hand

Hello, Mother

She says

Aren’t you looking especially

Lovely

Today

And the woman

Senseless

Smiles and

Wild Bill

My father

Equally senseless

Or so it seems

Joins the

Festival with a

Smile all his

Own