The Euthanization of Rod Stewart (Part I and II)

(I)

If your cat

brought it through the flap,

looking like a bedraggled stoat

in a Royal Fusilier's coat,

its voice irretrievably broken,

like a demented toad croakin'...

you'd put it out of its misery,

crack its skull with a shovel.

(II)

It pains me to say it Sir Roderick

but you no longer wear it well,

this pantomime horse skin we call life.

Nobody thinks you're sexy these days

(outside of a geriatric care facility).

Taste your hot legs and sashay away

to the railway tracks

and await the downtown train.

It's hard, I know, and you Maggie May

well say "I don't want to talk about it"

but this can't be allowed to carry on.

Submit to the sweet balm of oblivion

and go sailing, home again, across the sea:

one last voyage to eternity.

B.R. 05.06.2022

Sir Roddenberry in happier times