Coming Back Home

it may have been just a simple media ratings boost
when Malcolm said that thing about 
chickens coming home to roost
like Alice in her Wonderland
off with his red bearded head
but one look down that dusty Tara plantation road
there was no Scarlett
scampering down the lane
holding her fancy petticoat

I ain’t here to gloat
but we all seen them dark clouds before
impending hurricanes on past horizons 
comin’ round the mountain
weeks
months
years ago
this daily show reminds me when
the master called good old faithful
Rin Tin Tin
but the whistle didn’t work this time

and they was sitting in them leather recliners
wouldn’t peep the other side of the aisle
nah
they can’t point crooked fingers at us
'cause we ain’t had nothing to do with it
we was minding our own business
sitting on our own front porches
drinking mama’s homemade iced tea
ice cubes
all up in mason jars
lined up along the wooden railing
just watching all this calamity

and don’t they hope
don’t they wish 
they could throw out a lifeline rope from across their aisles
and ask us to reel them in

they really should have paid attention to them swimming lessons
from the old YMCA summer camp days
we learned how to line dance in the water
and backstroke away from you
on to our Huckleberry barges
into our recliners 
right across the aisle
watching them flail their arms
while their chickens try to cross the road
back to the roost from whence they once came

and we just head noddin’
feet tappin’
listening to the Four Tops

'wake me
shake Me
when it’s over...'