enduring memory
It was in New York
on the pavement
outside
Radio City Music Hall
I saw Jack Dempsey
and Alan Ladd
I had not seen a famous
people before
Jack wore brown pants
a loud sports jacket
Alan was in a tan suit
It was a warm evening
in 1957
We Who Loved America (first part)
It was a humid August evening in 1958
when the cargo ship
I served as a galley helper docked in NEW York
I was mesmerized by the tall buildings
the tallest building at home had four floors
in the evening, the chief steward took us to the fabled
Radio Music Hall, which showed movies
music and dancing girls who decorously danced,
alas, my mind was, the street
I had seen Alan Ladd standing on the pavement
talking to Jack Dempsey, I was there, witnessing
greatness
~ A Sonnet in Iambic Tetrameter ~
Remember when we idolized
Ty Cobb, Babe Ruth, and Shoeless Joe
They seemed so great back in the day
Personas perfect, A-OK
But that was when the news was not
about their doings off the field
When little boys could really say
their heroes, golden swords did wield
Knute Rockne stood for God and right
Jack Dempsey punched with all his might
Ted Williams’ drives went out of sight
Grown men could even take delight…
But then OJ, he went to jail ~
Bruce Jenner was no more a male
The contender
I have not met many famous people in me continues life
but I have seen three kings, the first one who, when old
broke his leg for a reason not clear to me, died from
the accident that involved a horse
His son took over, he liked to dress in an admiral uniform
fond of sailing and cocktails, as was Hercules Poirot
when he died, his son became king, a quiet man who has
not done anything legendary.
Of course, they were only famous for being kings in them
little country not like Alan Ladd and Jack Dempsey I saw
a warm summer night in New York; Alan was short and
Jack was tall, and they walked into a bar.
My life is a modest one, hamburger cook when not sitting
In a pub with other pretenders, talking about art, which
we had not seen other than in magazines and books we
had read, thinking we’re intellectuals.
Not that I complain, I once took an acting course, but
nothing came out of it, even though friends said I was
talented doing press-ups with one arm behind my back
while drinking a pint of beer.
The boxer and the actor
I saw them on the sidewalk near The Radio music Hall
in New York, Jack was telling Alan a joke
Jack Dempsey wore a sport’s jacket, brown trousers
a white shirt’s open, top button open
shiny shoes; Alan Ladd, wore a grey suit, with matching
tie (Everyone had shiny shoe trainers not yet invented)
I noticed he was considerably smaller than Jack.
I was in awe had never seen someone famous
life and up close; this was, in 1957, I was so young.
I bought a ticket to see the show at the music hall
before the movie dancing girl came to the stage
with live music and plenty of thighs.
The final was a big kick a woman got it wrong
she kicked with her left leg when she realized her mistake
shifted to the right leg; too late, the music had stopped
but with one leg still in the air, it was what I remember.
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