Henry’s Gonzo Elegy For Hunter S. Thompson

How do you like your
blue-eyed boy now
Mr. Death-two-doors-down?

Balding, shooting bears in the ass,
shooting your assistant in the ass,
shooting yourself in the ass.

There’s already a hole there,
there’s already a hole
in your convertible head.

Fear and loathing comes out of it,
motorcycles roar out of it,
the Big Island pours out of it,

the surfers hang none
behind your big ears,
it is still the Sixties

and hippies cast the non-deciding vote.
The war will continue,
but that is all behind us now.

The future opens up
like your black bow-tie
holding your death by the neck.

But, listen, Hunter, don’t go drinking too much Chivas
and shooting God
in the nuts.