A TALE OF ZACHARY
Finished lies the infernal report,
And, with a single tap, gone for the day.
Zachary turns his head, in the darkness,
And rises to leave - and return the next day!
Briefcase in hand, he walks to the hall,
Where the Xerox machines rest.
As he made a final copy for the day,
To be used the next, a light pulchratis did pour over him.
His glasses gleamed as he viewed the beams -
Twas the lady Mae, leaving for the day,
At this time of night, and - like Zachary -
To return again, the next day!
He arrived home near the hour of the dead -
Treading the streets that all now dread.
Yes, here was his home:
A palace made of shards, shards of his dreams destroyed.
Upon his entrance, Zachary was met
By his wife, Carmen - whore before, Spanish forever - smoking her pipe,
"That daughter of yours," she said as she puffed a great puff,
"She take after me, of that I am sure."
"How mean you by this?" Zachary asked, undaunted
By the Spanish beauty's words.
"Out again! She is at some party, a party most vile:
Selling her body, her soul all the while."
"The address, damn you, have you the address?" Zachary asked now,
"For if you have the address, I shall swing by, and find her.
Bring her home, or what is called home."
"Tis written somewhere in that room of hers - I'll find it!"
Some time later, Zachary was off to that party
To rescue his daughter from her mother's regret.
She's your daughter Zachary, she's now a whore -
Oh, drive on Zachary, make haste, make haste!
His Buick parked in front of the allegedly ill-reputed house,
Zachary ran up the porch, and in through a portal.
Inside, the horrors he saw - not fit for a man, not at all!
Smoke and smog, Spic and Wog - all are here, equally worthless as the next.
He dug deep into the house, and found his daughter,
Her being twice a lover, in one moment.
Out he reeled her, she was still in a daze,
Zachary threw her into the Buick, and drove away.
Where to take her? Where to go?
This plucked flower, this sown field,
What to do?
O Zachary, Zachary, please do something! Anything!
The Buick pulled over, this time, on a bridge,
Zachary left the car, the ignition still ignited.
He dragged his daughter now to the side of the bridge,
And, with little resistance, gave her to the river below.
O Zachary! Your flesh! Your blood!
All is as it was, as if it never were,
Down below, in the river, blue
With dreams at its bottom - tarnished gold.
That night he drove back to his palace,
His queen awaiting, breath baiting.
He told her sublimely that their daughter
Was nowhere to be found - he told her this kindly.
Tears were shed, bodies hugging -
All this, for a whore, once their daughter?
O Zachary, surely you have done her a favor,
No more disgrace, no more - 16 years down a river.
That next morn, back at the office,
He gave Mae a letter, the one he had copied
When Mae had been leaving.
The letter read:
Mae, tea sometime? Sincerely, Zachary Pilard