remember what they said about Oswald?
how he planned it all and was such a
good Marine
sharp-shooter
with his rifle
with nerves of steel
with unlimited patience
being a convenient dupe of the mob
but it was all bullshit
meant to deceive and deflect
while driving the Irish Catholic crowd crazy
or crazier, if that was even possible.
the Batista boys were furious, of course,
about the loss of their property
and the fast women
and the slow cars
and how they hated the cigar smoke from Castro
who blew it furiously up their asses
but never giving away his hand.
the cops did their best playing the field
sniffing the air for smells that didn't belong
conning the cons
wearing their suits into Broadway clubs
waiting for snitches and bitches
to order tall drinks
from a short bartender
who was a closet friend of J. Edgar Hoover,
famous top dog at the FBI.
of course it was Oswald, the pinko
solo player
a mastermind
a maestro
a genius,
simply another day in a plaza in Dallas.
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