[New-Poetry] Celebrity

[jforjames at aol.com]

Celebrity



Farrah was dead. 
The paparazzi descended
on the Malibu compound
of her famous lover,
trying to get shot a single tear
finding that rivulet of wrinkle
on of his puffy but still handsome face.


Just as Ryan rose from the couch, 
their cell phones started to ring,
and by the time he strode firmly
down the driveway to the front gate,
steady, ready to deliver his final thoughts 
about Farrah’s beauty and her life,


the SUVs were pulling away, speeding off.
Michael Jackson was dead.
They had to get to Neverland.

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