Doctor Now I can Confess it to
You
Doctor now I can confess it to
you as the end is near
And there is no one not even my
children to care
That I see Nixon as if it were
tomorrow
Plain as day he smiles his false
smile he is desperate vulnerable and weak
His frightened eyes small his
airplane hairline
All that he is, his ideas,
frozen into his jowls and twitching lips
His suit is blue, his tie
maroon, his sad pets stand by his side
Under the penetrating lights
that draw the forehead drenched
And toward which he is
inexorably fastened
He appears to me as myself
watching myself on a screen in the dark
The story unfolding repeatedly
bundled with tangling cords
And spun out to the sound of
screaming careening overhead jets
These are meals and you always
appear to have your choice of cuisines
But necessity is the marching
orders that come from on high
I seem to be always awaiting
them and at the same time following
Things don’t get any better
and Nixon speaks his denials and rationalizations
His bitter expressions of defeat
and persecution
In charge and inflamed as we
both spin down
