Maybe it was between a rock

and some hard place

that JFK was stuck

before he was struck.

Maybe it was between

 some terrible course of action

and a place  he could not would not go.

We do not know, you know,

the contents of those daily intelligence reports,

with choices between

tragedies unseen

by us,

with news of shooting and burning

that could terminate the turning

of our regular ignitions

and our convenient conditions,

not to mention our munitions.

We just don't know.

Nevertheless

Whose woulds these are we think we know,

going to and fro between Michael,

and Angelo,

but never really knowing who's right or wrong

in any given situation,

yet always having to take sides because,

you know, we're the big kid

on the block.

Maybe it was between some rock

and a hard place

with dastards on both sides

that our Prez was found

and so they laid him down,

because he could not do both.

He had taken an oath,

gave his last full measure of devotion.

And while the car was still in motion

Jackie climbed atop the seat

where widows wail and orphans bleat.

We just do not know, you know

what those offal briefings show.

I know not  

what course the hot-seat man may trace;

I wouldn't want to be

in that oval-smelling place.

May God help us.