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.