Herbert Nehrlich

Rookie (04 October 1943 / Germany)

Inertia And The Tornado - Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

He was humongous at that.
Using the words morbidly obese,
quite appropriate, if perhaps unkind.
Yellow Cab had to, orders from up high,
dumped him, reluctantly, friendly fellow,
popular with colleagues, accommodating.
Customers would ask, wait in a queue,
stash own luggage, infirmity rules.

The Tuesday, when the mongrel was re-elected
he was 'VIPping' down the Santa Ana,
precious cargo on board, 'scarecrow',
name bestowed upon, now passenger.
Big Chevy Caprice, five pimply Latinos,
crowding and screeching on a short off-ramp.

It's always hairy when evasion is a failed manoeuvre,
investigators calculating the 429 pounds (and a half) ,
and their velocity -all going by Newton-
came down to inertia, laziness really,
but the damage was done and scarecrow had lost.

'Four More Years', on the Republican tow truck sticker,
so, filled to the brim with mountain-grown rage
he drawled something about 'making sure...'
And that's how it all ended, in the short term.
Ileo-jejunal shunt, fancy words for cutting a chunk
of gut from the morbid fatsos, slim them down.

Dubbya celebrating, singing the campaign song
in the oval shower, 'Four More Years',
when ex-driver Franklin D. discharged,
using considerable force and creating undue noise,
the remains of his post-op meal, blimey.
Not one to read while in the process,
grabbing entire sandwiches, boiled eggs,
and replenishing energies desperately needed, and wanted.
Tray on knees, overflowing with culinary generosity.

Franklin dropped about half of the blubber,
re-hired under the caveat of weight-watching,
lest another inertia incident be in the cards.
Transferred to the hustle and bustle city of St. Paul,
always, the midwest had been attractive to him,
and the people, already there, conservative heartland.

On a Tuesday in November, Four More Years was,
once again, on all the stations and channels,
and seemingly, on the lips of all and sundry,
Senator and Aide, going to Duluth, upstate.
Snow predicted, Minnesota winter weather,
heartland snow, cold hands but warm of heart.
High speed, with special permission, governor's friend...

A funnel approaches, no tornados in November,
strange, though, the similarity, what the blazes....
The LTD now scooped from the turnpike and,
what the locals described as having gone, well
Up, Up And Away, accelerating. Awesome sight that.

Just makes you wonder, if morbidly obese
would have kept the damn thing on the ground.
Even tornados can't carry a lot of weight.


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, June 14, 2005



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