A red hand on the horse’s flanks
One hundred-and-some years ago
In these same precincts
In a yellow shirt
Dog warriors bet on
The absence of a Gatling gun.
Some called on God and some
On Colt’s Repeating Pistol
Patented Eighteen Seventy-Three.
We know who killed him and why.
But a spy said to me
“You would have made
A good Marine.”
While we sat in my kitchen drinking.
And he told me
Who killed Kennedy.