The next poem is called "The Rabbit Fights For His Life,
The Leopard Eats Lunch."
It comes from-- there is a picture in Life magazine.
One of these two page spreads was an article on leopards.
And there's a series of pictures of the leopard chasing
a baboon.
And at the last second-- the spread
was, the last second the baboon turns around and faces him.
And he's screaming at him.
He's got this horrible expression on his face,
and the leopard just looking at him.
And I was fascinated by it.
Hung it up on my wall, and finally I
realized what it was, was that the baboon was
fighting for his life and the leopard was just eating lunch.
And then it turns out there is an old German folk
story that says the same thing, and it's
a rabbit instead of a baboon.
So I changed it.
The children in the poem I refer to,
are college aged student children.
"What if the revolution comes and I'm in it?
And my job is to murder a child accidentally,
or afterwards to get rid of the policeman.
I had a milkshake last week with a policeman.
We talked about his pay raise.
It eats shit, he told me, what if I have that one?
Savage.
The baby was easy.
The baby went up in thin air.
I remembered industriously asking,
when they talked about whether it would all be
worth the death of one child.
And you decided yes or no according to your character.
My character is how he got back in his car
like a tired businessman, and listened to the radio
for a few minutes and waved.
It's having to lug him everywhere I go,
because I can't take him to his wife crying like this.
The children have learned to throw their arms around you
without meaning it.
To kiss you without feeling it.
To know there is something marvelous,
and not pay attention.
In order to say any of this at all to you,
I've made myself up like somebody in a novel.
In order not to go out of my mind,
I make it I can only do two things, hold you, bury you."