On the Death of a President

and the TV on the wall(I was in hospital) shouted out in glorious black and white guess who's dead?...his head was blown apart in a big Lincoln car (no pun intended) and his glamorous wife in twin set and gorgeous hat, lay across the butcher's table, shocked and distressed,or something like that and the chosen ones (fellow adulterers) wheeled in his body with hope and his blood on their cuffs and a blonde voice was heard saying, "happy birthday Mr President..I'm dead too" and the doctor looked inside his skull and saw a thousand lovers,Vietnam and two errant brothers looking like they might need a guide because of the death of a brother, an icon, a man