There, that motorcade, black,
slow-routed, presidential,
and a roadside audience,
flower throwing, reverential;
their soft-bunches landed
upon Ali’s dark hearse,
as the last man of America
danced off their remorse.
10,000 POEMS – Posted freshly most days
There, that motorcade, black,
slow-routed, presidential,
and a roadside audience,
flower throwing, reverential;
their soft-bunches landed
upon Ali’s dark hearse,
as the last man of America
danced off their remorse.