to stay out of sight, four times
six years deep. That's a lot of time
on your head. All the while we speculated
how it happened in the end, the mob
and the union bosses being so hard
to tell apart. But really, I'm glad
to hear the news, Jimmy, cement overshoes
or not. So what if you were a heavy
drinker, or you pissed a few people off
who buttered your bread.
America kept your story floating
through all the waiting and
who would have suspected the East River
in New York except, perhaps, that dredge
of mysteries, the National Enquirer
where your name still blazes, today, all caps,
headlined for the rack of every supermarket
checkout line from California to, say, the East River
in New York. People remember, especially
those older ones, you know, the ones
who paid their dues, who showed up at work
the last twenty-four years
though they never heard from you.
Yes, we're glad you finally surfaced
so we can be done with you
and go on looking
for those lives we misplaced,
searching for our own uncertain graves.