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Poem	In Memoriam What's missing is the eyeballs in each of us, but it doesn't matter because you've got the bucks, the bucks, the bucks. You let me touch them, fondle the green faces lick at their numbers and it lets you be my "Daddy!" "Daddy!" and though I fought all alone with molesters and crooks, I knew your money would save me, your courage, your "I've had considerable experience as a soldier... fighting to win millions for myself, it's true. But I did win," and me praying for "our men out there" just made it okay to be an orphan whose blood was no one's, whose curls were hung up on a wire machine and electrified, while you built and unbuilt intrigues called nations, and did in the bad ones, always, always, and always came at my perils, the black Christs of childhood, always came when my heart stood naked in the street and they threw apples at it or twelve-day-old-dead-fish. "Daddy!" "Daddy," we all won that war, when you sang me the money songs Annie, Annie you sang and I knew you drove a pure gold car and put diamonds in you coke for the crunchy sound, the adorable sound and the moon too was in your portfolio, as well as the ocean with its sleepy dead. And I was always brave, wasn't I? I never bled? I never saw a man expose himself. No. No. I never saw a drunkard in his blubber. I never let lightning go in one car and out the other. And all the men out there were never to come. Never, like a deluge, to swim over my breasts and lay their lamps in my insides. No. No. Just me and my "Daddy" and his tempestuous bucks rolling in them like corn flakes and only the bad ones died. But I died yesterday, "Daddy," I died, swallowing the Nazi-Jap animal and it won't get out it keeps knocking at my eyes, my big orphan eyes, kicking! Until eyeballs pop out and even my dog puts up his four feet and lets go of his military secret with his big red tongue flying up and down like yours should have as we board our velvet train.
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