Fifty-six years ago today
The shots reverberated,
That fateful Friday morning of a Texas November
Echo into my ears, hanging in a K.C. poolhall
Where hustlers and streetboys gathered.
"The president has been shot!'
Early radio reports uncertain
Was there still hope?
Age twenty, intensely idealistic--political--
My suspicions keyed,
Tendrils of thought seeking, searching
Who pulled those triggers?
Sensed it ran deep--the President:
No cue in my hands, clueless too, I listened on,
Standing there, awaiting later bulletins,
"This just in: President Kennedy declared dead."
Sunday morning in Topeka
Fade to a friend's foldaway couchbed, watching
Broadcast from Dallas police headquarters
"I'm a patsy" escorted down the corridor...
Plunging through cops, reporters, a hatted man
Thrusts his hand out...snubnose
Live video etches through a lifetime's memories
From the hollow heart of Dallas P.D. security.
Seared-in image of Lee Harvey Oswald's murdered grimace
Concocted by subterranean schemers,
Cancels the patsy's day in court
...all tidied up, the key to the truth collapses on the concrete.
Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.