The origin of my dictatorship by Bob Hicok

but loading a kitten into a bazooka takes years of military training I doubt you have

The origin of my dictatorship

by Bob Hicok

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October. Watching trees evict their leaves,
I remember driving by a woman 
holding a child in her lap 
while sitting on a pile of pillows 
beside a vacuum cleaner, a stack of dishes, 
and bags and bags of clothes 
outside an apartment complex 
in the rain. The moment 
couldn’t have been sadder
if you shot a puppy in the head 
with a kitten. I guess you could do that 
with a bazooka, but loading a kitten 
into a bazooka takes years 
of military training I doubt you have. 
I was probably ten years old
and didn’t know much about war 
or capitalism. At sixty five, I still 
don’t know much about anything, 
but often see that woman
on the TV show in my head, and still
wish I could help, like 
with the nakeder and nakeder trees, 
how cold they look, and me 
with more blankets than I have beds, 
or shivers. I’d really like 
hot cocoa now, and maybe, just a little,
to rule the world.