Wednesday, June 15, 2011

The Ghost of Richard Nixon


The Ghost of Richard Nixon

The waiter ushers Dick over to my table.
He appears to recognize me, Have you seen
my goddamned dogs, Checkers or Timahoe?
He's in a cheap suit and soup-stained tie.
I was walking them and they vaporized.
People are always trying to steal Checkers...
and Timahoe, well, only Henry Kissinger
wants him... for serious training.

Dick sits at my table, orders six gin and tonics,
What a time we'll have, just a rock 'em - sock 'em time,
once I get my sixer of smart juice.  Timahoe...
I love that red-coated garden pisser.
We used to get low and chew on the Oval Office rug.
One day I caught the bastard fucking with it....
and for a moment I was ready to napalm his ass.
And Kissinger says, "Mr. President,
if you don't reward him with dog biscuits,
then there won't be any carpet crumbs."

Dick lurches from his chair, dives to all-fours,
looks up at me, places a napkin on the floor,
and grips it with his teeth... shakes it.
Dick still has wiry dark hairs
growing from the top of his nose.

The waiter asks, Wouldn't a chair be more comfortable?
Dick scowls at the waiter, Fuck you.  I 'm president...
for eternity.  If I want to gnaw rugs and carpets
for dog biscuit crumbs, that's what I'll fucking do.
What are you, a species of football-hating liberal?
I'll have the IRS audit you, you anal pin worm.

My porterhouse steak is getting cold, so I cut into it.
The waiter disappears.  Dick shakes the napkin with his teeth,
Goddamn, but Timahoe and I had good times
in the White House.  Once we saw the image of Jesus
in a bowl of Timahoe's canned dog food.
Another time we both pissed on a painting of FDR.
And when Elvis came and I made him a special agent
against drugs, I let him take Timahoe for a trot.

Abruptly, Dick sits back down in his chair,
You gotta help me find Checkers and Timahoe.
We were on a walk, talking to America.
It's vital that I remain within the heart
of this great nation's soul.  

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