Edward G. Robinson
born-Edward Goldenberg
December 12, 1893

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Eddie, in his ticklish robe,

made his way among the people.

They put their hands into their pockets

and the hands searched like rats in a bag

for a trinket

for a gleaming bit of gold

(not all of it but just a little for the collection.

“The future comes once a day--regular,

whilst idles come and go”.)

Eddie G. in his ticklish robe,

passed the plate

while his boys stoked the fire.

They melted jewelry

and it gave off an odor

that the whole crowd tasted

in the backs of their throats

when Eddie poured it into

the sandy mold.

Then they partied

waiting for the boss to come.

They danced between the cardboard horizon

and the papier-mâché boulders.

They waited for the sun to set

and for the delivery of the Word.

It would come like a pizza delivery-

late and cold

and the news would be old

and for dessert

they would eat

their words

and Eddie G.

and his ticklish sons

would go on

to get promotions.