Where In The World Is William Barr?

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Written by Carl Peterson   
Friday, 15 November 2019 23:39

Where In The World Is William Barr?



The president looked into OJ’s old mirror,
And it spoke, darkening...
“Find the villain who really did these deeds!
And set yourself free.”

Two weeks later William Barr headed to the jet
Trundling his easy chair, its seat impressed
with a concavity, deep as from meteorite impact
And an axe handle and a half across.

William could not sit comfortably in any
other chair, and, yellow legal pad under his arm
(the same yellow paper he
used to note Hannity’s lyric oral poetry,
nightly sitting alone before the bluish flickering light,
sunk deeply into his magical easy chair.)

William boarded the jet and, stowing his chair,
rose into the air...
He would find the real criminals
Wherever in the world they had been
Wherever in the world they were.

Trundling his easy chair across the sand,
Yellow legal pad under his arm,
William sought first from the wisest,
most inscrutable stone visage, a clue.

“Who did these crimes, oh wise,
Enigmatic master?  Say who did
these deeds that I might set the innocent free, and burn
Treacherous jackals who, deflecting from their own crimes
Sully a blameless hero?”

Imperceptibly to William,
Corners of the stone mouth lifted in gentle smile.
“Seek him who in his evening
crawls about on all fours,”
The Sphinx said.

“Yes, wise master of the desert.”
William rose laboriously from his easy chair
slipping
yellow legal pad back under his arm.

“And he cries a lot!”
the Sphinx called,
as William departed,
trundling his magical easy chair
heavily across the sand.

Now William’s been everywhere, man
except where he had to climb the stairs, man,
crossed the desert bare, man,
of travel he’s had his share, man,
He’s been everywhere!*

Gabarone, Navarone, Belmopan, Kazakhstan,
Ouagadougou, Honolulu, N’djamena, Cartagena
Tripoli, Nairobi, Lilongwe, and Kigali
In Beirut he went on a toot
and was feeling rather jolly.

In Madrid, William was officially informed that they, like he,
would like nothing more than to exonerate
that Pure Lamb, who,
through no fault of his own
had gathered so much tar to his sparse orangey wool.
Poor lamb!  But the ablest investigators of Spain had gathered few clues,
from the villain’s fiendish trail; but they knew:
the perpetrator, whoever he was, was male, six feet one and over 300
pounds.
William, sunk into his magical easy chair, pen paused over yellow paper,
knew of no suspect with those traits: crawls on all fours, cries a lot, six feet one, over 300 pounds.  “Hmmm, seems to be a peculiar sort of reprobate (probably an atheist!)”

In London, Rome, Paris, Berlin, Kiev and Helsinki,
William Barr gathered bits of the puzzle international spookdom
claimed they couldn’t solve, but all admitted
something was pretty stinki.

Whoever he is, they said in London, our evidence proves against all gainsay:
He lies a lot.

Don’t blame us they said in Rome, but our one or two clues suggest
that this international
blackguard, whoever he is,
is the wayward architect of his own reality
adamant about unpleasantly
foisting it upon the rest of the world

Whoever the monster is, they said in Paris, the indicators we have accrued convince,
we think,
indisputably, that his favorite color is a bright mercurochrome orange.

In Berlin it was confessed
that whoever the dastard really was,
a couple of bare facts
netted by the finest
German detectives
certified that the unknown malefactor was particularly fond
(not necessarily in a paternal way)
of one of his children.

In Kiev they begged William to please leave and take his easy chair with him before they got into any more trouble.

In Helsinki, they said well of course William Barr
now here you are;
explore your mind to recall
What seems to have happened
right here on Finnish soil

And William blinked several times,
uncomprehendingly, and soon departed
trundling his magical easy chair,
yellow pad under his arm,
as under his breath he complained,
“I came not for riddles but for the truth!”

What shall the Unitary Master say
William Barr worried
If I return without the name of he
Who has really committed these
Vile crimes?

If the Master has a fault,
(of course he doesn’t)
but if the Master had a fault
it would be that he constantly finds fault
and being faultless himself
must find it in others.
And poor, sweet William shuddered.

Now William’s been everywhere, man
except where he had to climb the stairs, man,
breathed the mountain air, man,
of travel he’s had his share, man,
He’s been everywhere!*

Gabarone, Navarone, Belmopan, Kazakhstan,
Ouagadougou, Honolulu, N’djamena, Cartagena
Tripoli, Nairobi, Lilongwe, and Kigali
On the return leg he went on a toot
In Beirut
and was feeling, briefly, rather jolly.

 

*Tip of the hat to Hank Snow and his song I’ve Been Everywhere

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