John Updike, z"l
HOW TO BE UNCLE SAM
My father knew
how to be
Uncle Sam
Six feet two
he led the
parade
the year
the boys came back
from war.
Splendidly
spatted, his legs
like canes
his dandy coat,
like a
bluebird’s back
he led the parade
and then
a man
(I’ve never been sure
he was honestly
canned
he might have been
consciously
after a laugh)
popped
from the crowd
swinging his hands,
and screamed
“you’re the s.o.b.
who takes
all my money!”
and took
a poke at
my own father.
He missed
by half
an inch; he felt
the wind, my father
later said.
When the cops
grabbed that one,
another man
shouted from the
crowd in a
voice like brass:
“I don’t care if
you take a poke at
Updike,
but don’t you
bother
Uncle Sam!”
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home