Take no joy for October 24,
Not you a certain bus driver of Montgomery,
Or two certain policemen in that burg.
Not the burglar in Detroit on August oh-four,
Or you upholders of Crow or your descendents “in charge.”
Certainly not the pair who fancy themselves “OutKasts”
Or the geek who dared swipe one’s very own name.
Not even the fictional barber who dared to diss one’s efforts
Or those so-called “real” critics who thought he should have been thanked.
And though this one deserves far better
Than to be praised by any of you,
October 24 of twenty-oh-five
Should not be called a great day by you,
For the body may be gone
But the essence is eternal.