Jack

What coulda woulda shoulda
By now all but just a toke
If it weren’t such a joke
A lifelong poke so to speak
Not to have had the Jack
To see us through
And do what’s right
For all those left
In the lurch
With a naked lunch
No eggs in the benedict
For heaven’s gate
Or a light to follow
A path to take
Until it’s too late
And we’d be excess weight
My word if only anyone knew one
Would be all that’s gone down
Since the promise interred
Would seem fraught with naught
Nixonian or Reaganomic or
Bushwhacked now since Clinton
Gave us a glimmer
But couldn’t stay
A generation’s dreams
Chipped away
Soddenly soiled
Since JFK.