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In Memory of Charles Prince, In Memory of Ken Lay (Protagoras, November 5, 2007) In Memory of Charles Prince Go then Charles Prince, most late and unlamented I hear your exile now will be Falluja Where you will walk bent over in heat and dust Alert for the sharp crack of a Scythian bowstring The froth of blood at the mouth. No, not for you Vaux upon Scarsdale, furnished at Roche, veneer, But gleaming. No, not for you Rue Florentin Or the Court of St James, no my dear chap They're sending you to a hell you never dreamed of. It won't be like high school football after all. And that long pass you threw, up over the lines, You'll need that now that you have called the play With seconds left before it takes your head off. For you my boy, the war is coming home, In Darien on the Tigris soldiers now Thirsty, stoned, exhausted, furious, mourning, Sometimes throw passes too, that fall well short To land and explode on those that led them forward. In Memory of Ken Lay I said, Kenny, all I ever wanted Was the summer barbecues out back Of the small house, in the paved yard The kids in high school or college The touch of Jesus on Sundays Amd whatever you wanted, for you. But you can't go home again. And he said, me too girl, me too, Thing was, I never knew it. For more on a wide array of other topics, please visit the oftwominds.com weblog. 
HTML, format and art copyright © 2007 Charles Hugh Smith, copyright to text and all other content in the above work is held by the author of the essay as of the publication date listed above. All rights reserved in all media. The views of the contributor authors are their own, and do not reflect the views of Charles Hugh Smith. All errors and errors of omission in the above essay are the sole responsibility of the essay's author. The writer(s) would be honored if you linked this Readers Journal essay to your site, or printed a copy for your own use.
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