I summon the ghost of the Chevrolet dealership, the one
who drank Rothschild wine and cursed the federal reserve.
Is he revisiting the vines of Vietnam, or caressing his cache
of semi-automatics, the collection he kept in case of coup?
He sucked on cinnamon sticks to quit the tobacco products
laced with formaldehyde and battery agents. He loved me
in the little black dress and my ankle-strap heels from Payless.
O my heart, handed down by my mother, fickle and cold.
O my heart of my different ages, do not stand up as a witness
against me in the courtroom. Leader, your deeds are clean
as the whistles I once drew down the street. Bring me he who
would fight the Administrator and that stinking counsel of lies.
Send the Marine to protect me. Let me go forth to happy day.


Damian Rogers