Arthur Herman Bremer Fantasizes About Assassinating George C. Wallace in a Self-Amusing, Classic Literary Reference While Crossing Lake Michigan on a Ferry from Milwaukee to Ludington, Michigan

This poem by Paul David Adkins appeared in Issue 1 of The Lakeshore Review.

—Call me Ismael.

Or call me loaded. Call me
Belly of Lead. Call me Weight
of The World

because I have carried it 
for you. I know 
the evil and am in pursuit.

A lot of people think I just want fame:
          How much do you think
          I will get 
          for my autobiography,
I ask the arresting officer.

But I’m really asking for you
because all you think about is money,
all you think about is how to get ahead;
I know you can relate. Who doesn’t
want a little extra cash for their labor?

I wanted the whale.
I wanted to glimpse its white belly,
untucked, bloody shirt
as it rolled in the red deep.

Haven’t you ever wanted anything so bad
you’d drive two thousand miles for a shot at it?
In a rusting Rambler, back seat filled with pillows and blankets and bullets,
the obsession drove and drove and drove me.

I had two dollars in my pocket by the end.