(I'll never make it) to the Mardi Gras

"One loses many laughs by not laughing at oneself."
S.J. Duncan

I'll never make it to my Mardi Gras
just like Captain America...
some rednecks will shoot me
down
sooner
for the rednecks inherit the Earth...

then they'll bury me nameless
by the side of the road
& then perhaps erect
a temple
of the Indestructible
Spirit
above

but who'll start the pilgrimage?
who'll be the
one-eyed leader
of the three-eyed masses...
the yo-yo man of mystery...
the sunpierced
stoned jester...
who's gonna make it to their Mardi Gras...

who'll dance to the tune
he, a legend, declares...
& which silent flutes exactly will play...
which faces, which places,
which tunes
& which orchestras

you'll never make it to your Mardi Gras
too
you're a fine young gal, but
you're holdin' on to the ground
too tight
& you're never reach the L
S
of
D
orchards
in marbles
of Summer...

you're bound for the Autumn
revelation time:
you'll never hear
the true
Our Father, Who art in Heaven...
you'll never...
ah, that don't matter...

whoever made it to the Mardi Gras...
I'd like to shake your hand
buy you a shot of
booze
get drunk till the death bell
tolls
smoke the very last
joint
and bury myself beside you
so that we both can
remember
the journey

for on the roadside oak it is written:
silence is the key to every
goddamn
door
(signed "Buddha was here
before...")