He Walked in America

down to Lee County,
set up a storefront,
and shaped southern pine
to substance.

First to be last,
idolized a seventh,
He passed incognito,
lighting spliffs with the rabble,
in shopping cart gospel,
doling PB&J’s.

He learned a bit of Spanish,
and taught the farmhands’ kids math.
He sang baritone smooth to the
of the pin-stuck drummers.

Funny man.
Pitiful man.
The company he keeps!
Who’s he trying to impress?

He wrote a sequel,
as ignored as His prequel.
He couldn’t even find a publisher.

Sawdust in His hair,
calm on His face,
He passed wrinkled
and unnoticed,
not worth a crucifixion.

He got a nice obituary,
but never a following.

The billboard congregation
missed their last best chance.

Nathan Porceng is a Washington based poet, songwriter, and submariner. He has been published by Headline and Entropy. Nathan enjoys the works of The Clash and Adrienne Rich. His opinions are his own. Read other articles by Nathan.