Mandatum
Sure, I remember the man.
He was sitting right there,
on the center stool
of the bar. Brought in
a bunch of his buddies–must've
been a dozen of ‘em. Like
college kids in total awe
of their professor, they hung
on his every word.
Their fawning flattery he sloughed
off like a ratty old coat. I got
the feeling he was the kind of guy
who'd gladly scratch your back
without expecting a back-scratch
in return, ya know? I bet
he wouldn't even mind washing
some bum’s smelly feet. I swear
if a thug had rushed into my joint
and fired off an Uzi, he'd throw
himself in front of the bullets.
I mean, he split his sandwich
with his friends, kept buying them rounds.
You'd think a guy like that
wouldn't have an enemy in the world,
right? But– “Watch out
“for the ones who hate me,” he says.
“They'll eat you alive. They'll scatter
discord like promiscuous seeds, strangle
you as a vine. They'll pit
each of you against the other, trick
you into betraying me.”
“Oh, no, Chief! Not us!” every last
one of them cried. “Oh, yes,” he says,
“One of you will turn me in.” Now here’s
the thing that knocked me out – I swear
on my mother’s grave!–he shrugged!
“What are you going to do?” he says.
“It has to be done.”
You'll never believe what
he told ‘em next: “Love
one another.” That’s it. Pretty
simple, huh? Maybe not
as easy as it sounds. I picked
up his empty glass. “Another
one, Sir?” “No,” he says,
“I'm done.”
Tell you one thing, Pal. It'll be
a long time before I forget that night.
Never saw anyone like him before
(or since.)
Damn! It’s dark in here.
Let me open these blinds.
Where’s it written that a gin-mill
has to look like a mausoleum?
Look at it out there, the sky
half-blue, half-gold, the clouds
rolling around like happy lambs;
little green crowns poking out
on the ashy branches of that big
old corner oak; the relics
of snow sliding off the curb
and running like rivers down the street.
What d’ya think? Are we
finally gonna get a spring this year –
or what?
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Originally Posted by AuntShecky
Apologies for the delayed response to this (formerly) topical allegorical poem!
And why pointing towards judgement day, traditionally in these isles a goose was for Christmas, at least untill we acquired the Turky habit from our colonial cousins...
