Dakota
The first time I saw it
was from the hop-on hop-off bus
glimpsing Strawberry Fields
as we headed for 9/11 & the Soup Nazi
I looked for Yoko carrying a shopping bag
and was disappointed
This time I walked through Central Park
dodging nannies, yummies
doing exercises holding prams
Randoms
taking photos
on a mosaic mandala shrine
with the title of his song inlaid
In twenty thirteen, early autumn,
winter nowhere on the horizon
it was impossible to imagine a psycho
with a gun taking his wonked brain
for a blood-splattered run,
letting it right off the leash,
making yesterday history.
A John lookalike was playing
his twangy thang
A blackbird flew out of it
First appeared in Cordite Review
Julie Maclean 