Type Dancing

A MEMORY
By David Allen

JFK is being buried
And we have a day off from high school.
Hanging around Jim’s house
Watching the funeral procession on the tube.
Thirsty, we raid Jim’s fridge against his wishes;
Someone forgets to close the door.
Upset, Jim pushes the door closed.
I move away, but the door’s ajar;
So he pushes harder. Resistance. Angry,
Jim shoves his body against the door.
The kitten’s head is crushed,
All she wanted was the milk
She smelled as I rummaged for a Coke.

(Perhaps curiosity Killed this cat.)

The cat’s half dead,
Jim tries to put her to sleep
With his truck’s exhaust.
She mews meekly and clings to life,
Her head cocked at an unnatural angle.
So, Jim digs a hole for his sister’s cat,
Her precious, and gently places her in it
And presses down hard on her neck
With the shovel blade in one last act of mercy,
As JFK’s body is laid to rest.

We go back inside and watch
John John give that brave salute
As his dad’s flag-draped casket passes by.