Baby Adolf

 

How the newborn Adolf Hitler,

a beautiful boy as precious

and fragile as an Easter chick,

came to be known as a monster

remains one of the great mysteries

in the universe of the unknowable

 

Imagine an infant opening his eyes,

trying to understand his mother’s face;

the senseless orders of a dictator dad

 

He didn’t choose his tangled brain,

gristled mug or broken heart

He just wanted to paint beautiful pictures,

enjoy an occasional pat on the back

 

For all we know, one drab morning he woke

to slap his naked feet on the cement floor

of his dank kellerwohnung,* rushed to view

himself in the remnant of a tarnished mirror

he found digging in the alley rubbish heap

and discovered he had been totally screwed:

 

Bad looks, bad brain, no talent, no girlfriend

No wonder the guy was prone to tantrums

 

And you, sittin’ there,

what’s your story?

 

* basement apartment