The Omega Man Poem

The Omega Man is one of my favorite movies. I've seen it dozens of times. Which might lead readers to wonder why I didn't know it was shot in Los Angeles instead of New York. To which I retort: I'm very slow. That's why I have to watch my favorite movies dozens of times. 

Charlton Heston as The Omega Man

   A Very Bad Way to Spend 

   An Evening 

   Watching Heston portray 

   The Last Man On Earth 

   I polish my pearl- 

   Handled revolver 

   More than the 

   Surgeon General 

   Would advise 

   And begin counting 

   The continuity errors 

   That begin in Scene 1 

   When a cop car rolls 

   Off the Jersey turnpike 

   And continue when I spot 

   Jack Kerouac and Frank O’Hara 

   Playing bongos 

   On the roof of the Met. 

   The supposedly solitary 

   Heston rolls on square jawed 

   And is whistled at 

   By whores in SoHo, 

   Hit up for spare change 

   By bums in the Bronx 

   And told the end  

   Is near by Jehova’s  

   Witnesses in Hell’s Kitchen.      

         

   It’s all a hoax and 

   When the credits 

   Start rolling 

   I realize the only 

   One alone here 

   Is me. 

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