After the Fall

George Chemeche has written a poem which has to do with former Governor Spitzer.

After the Fall

The day the earth stood still, I understood

the importance of being sober, vigilant, and cool.

In our small town tavern, whispers had it,

Breaking News are due any time soon.

We held our breath, anticipating the impending threat.

There was talk about invisible species landing in the shopping mall.

About robust locusts hovering over Town Hall.

Rumors about invasion of body snatchers,

extra-terrestrial dwarfs, and hideous astro-monsters.

Some wondered whether falling meteors seek to crush us to dust.

Some mentioned the eruption, which leveled Pompeii.

Some, to our volcanic mountain, pointed with dismay.

From mouth to ear, the whispering increased:

Dormant bacteria and contagious disease,

yet to invade our veins via nostrils and fingernails.

Some talked about mad goats smuggled by Saudi sheiks.

Some rolled with laughter at the latter joke.

Some swore the whole hysteria is a Jewish plot.

Others blamed witchcrafts, Ayatollahs and Arafats.

Some praised the Media Age.

The bartender favored the Ice Age.

We were torn between hope and rage.

Our handy beggar declared,

" ‘Be of good cheer: it's I, he not afraid.’ "

He begged our pardon and nothing else.

Some believed it's doomsday at work.

Some jeered, "The Messiah won't meet his date."

An armchaired veteran quoted La-Passionaria's speech,

" ‘It's better to die on your feet than live on your knees.’ "

A sarcastic reply uttered from the waiter’s mouth,

"To live or die, I'm a weak-kneed patriot."

At last, a downcast governor broke the long awaited news,

"I knew not what’s right and what’s wrong. . . ”

(A giveaway wont take our breath away.)

"They ain't worth a red cent," the beggar shook his head.

Then, in a wink, Advil and Paxil took turns

to cool down our agitated nerves.

Dog tired, yet relieved, we toasted one for the road,

blessed our gracious Lord and called it a day.

George Chemeche
New york, March 13, 08