Maria Callas
In a way, he didn’t mind dying,
But in a way he did.
He had killed the whole damned family
In a home invasion gone bad.
He had to give credit to his Warden,
Even if the Warden was a bleeding heart.
Well, I don’t know. I just don’t know.
His Warden’s reply to his last request.
How about a t-bone steak supper?
Baked potato, shortcake and the works?
His good old Warden.
Just a conventional old-time Warden.
Dammit, Warden, you asked, and
I told you what I want.
I know we’re expected to crave a steak,
But some men have other appetites.
No promises, his Warden had said.
I’ll talk to the wife.
One of his favorite thoughts is of
The Warden’s wife and her tight little britches.
But damned if they didn’t pull it off,
The Warden and Mrs. Warden.
The needle was one of those
Damned square IV affairs.
The drugs were toxic, and
He could taste their metallic toxicity.
He settled his mind and stomach
As best he could.
And drifted on out to the sounds of
The Warner Classics recording of
Maria Callas singing Casta Diva, from
Bellni’s Norma.
Act One.
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