The Real Deal

Your parents will die while you
Still think there’s a chance to make a clean breast of it
Which will leave you wondering

If this child will grow up to dodge a draft or love
Furtively in dawn’s doorways
Or write yet another poem about women’s breasts.

No matter, he won’t remember the day
President Reagan faced the press
Looking like a bewildered homosexual capitalist

Afraid of the masses, and told them
That no one remembered the holocaust
And that the murder of a crowd of South Africans

Wasn’t about race because some of the policemen
Were black. You can’t even begin to explain
That world to a teenager who will never see the inside

Of public school. The simple things disappear
And each day we learn again
How easy it is to lose

In the things that seemed
Real important at the time.

R. D. Girard | Mudlark No. 21
Contents | Breakfast at the Marion Motley All-Star Cafe