The Death of Richard Nixon

I liked Richard Nixon's great death 
   much better than I liked 
   his loose-jowled little life.

I especially liked the way 
   on the warm occasion of his great death,
   the eulogies lied heavy, double-helping,
   damnation-meriting lies,
About how Nixon "did" this and Nixon "did" that, and how
  he was "for" this good thing and "for" that good thing.   
They lied that
  Nixon was for peace and justice, and that
  Nixon was for the environment and health care.  
In short they said that Nixon gave a damn.

I also liked the television funeral and its clear, 
   expensive California weather, high and crystal, 
   and the heavy green carpeting on the platform
   from which the raging lies were delivered, and
I liked the way the mechanical U.S. soldiers, 
   whose faked indifference I found most real, 
   folded and re-folded the flag-which-it-is-not-a-crime-to-burn, and
How, the villain's relatives properly grieved.
    After all, he was family and his high crimes and mediocrity
    were not their fault.

The orators' lies gave me great hope, and courage.

It was as clear as the weather that we were all trapped by the 
    thought of our own death.

Perhaps
God put Richard Nixon on earth so he could have a funeral
    to make us think of our death. 

The entire country, even those fascist patriots
  calling C-SPANN later from their carphones in the South Carolina hills, 
  knew this:
  knew that Nixon was an ordinary villain, a cheat and a trickster 
  who got caught.  

But they, like me, were captivated by C-SPANN and death.

The eulogies gave me hope that at my own country funeral
  great lies will be said about my own little flabby life.

---James Bolner, Sr.
Baton Rouge, April, 1994

Copyright © 1997 James Bolner, Sr.