Gonzalo At Gitmo

he was afraid o dying
johnny cash is now dead
and with him care for convicts
our police underway and overtimed
they, like the cameras 
are blue bulbs on orange stalks
that sweep
that report suspicious activity
“touch these two wires together my son
… close your eyes”
“you fool, you’ve upset the apple cart
and rightly found your gonads smoking”
Farmer John sat the mercy seat
after trials with Infantry officers
“which fork do i use?”
they bring in the next flock of men
“you are prisoner who?
… Hey, soldier, you
… where’s my black suburban?”
as the man in black is dead
so is superman
them both, they ragged their eyes
to cartwheel with confused birds
at a loss for landmarks
it is an undistinguished sky
don gonzalez 
(no fan o the opera)
keeps the mercy seat
“Can we not build that fire higher?”
in the front room 
where suitors and sweeties meet
“I, sir, am not a fan of the boys’ choir
… I’ll not brook this silly talk of doom
… of law warped on the loom”
… it, sir, is a military justice”
He twirls his guano lizards
With abandon 
With glee
Less free than Papillon
To try their luck at sea
Less than a repeat of a season
After the death of his wife
He found his own, rather lost, his reason

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