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Poem

Get me inside quickly and as fast as you can, 
please turn the time travel dial to September 1963
Get me to a post office in Washington, D.C., 
so I can send an important letter to Jacque Kennedy.

The letter will tell her about her newest son, Patrick, 
ahead of time I will give her his four pound birth weight.
To prove I am ahead, and I know what I am talking about, 
I will tell her about my time travel, and warn her of the fate

And that her husband, President John F. Kennedy
is in grave danger, warn her on November 23rd, 1963, 
If she lets him go to Dallas and ride in an open limousine, 
he will be assassinated at her knee.

Trip number two, will bring me to February 1968,
but I will stay in the same post office. Here is the thing.
I will write a detailed letter to Coretta Scott King, 
warning her about the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King.

To prove that I am reliable I will tell her that January 30th, 
1956 is the day a bomb 
will go off on her porch, but it will not hurt anyone. 
After a little sandwich, and a drink in a cold fountain,
I will now dial up August 14th, 1969, and head to the 
Catskill Mountains,

It will be splendid to be the first to arrive,
At Woodstock, a day ahead of the crowd 
of 400, 000, now I am feeling truly alive.
I will be civil, not puffed up or proud.

I will spend three glorious days enjoying the music here, 
enjoying the hip-hugging bell-bottoms, dairy cows, staying clear 
of the bra-less women and the minds that are a bit unclear.

My last trip is easy. I will return to two days ago, and from breakfast 
re-do that entire day.
I was pretty mean to my husband, 
and I would like to stop myself from acting that way.

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