Bin Laden By
James Predin page I think I saw Bin Laden at the airport last night, Just arrived from Afghanistan on an Air Canada flight. I recognized him right away despite all the others, The wives, the sisters, the mothers and the brothers. He brought the four wives and all those twenty kids. Their luggage was piled high on ten different skids. Claiming refugee status, which I thought, was strange, It’s the daisy cutters,” Ben explained. “We were within range.” “It’s those damn Americans. We can’t trust them. Whereas here we have Charter Rights that no one can condemn. And the Canadian taxpayers will pay the bill, which is only fair, ‘Cause your prime minister wrote the Charter and answered our prayer.” “Hey, Bin,” I said, more than a little bit perplexed, “Look what you did in New York. They have reason to be vexed. “Forget that,” he said. “You know I too sometimes worry, ‘Cause three of my wives are pregnant and I’m in a hell of a hurry. Tell that clerk to hurry up ‘cause I haven’t got all night. We’re international refugees. We get a Canadian green light. Does she not understand your Supreme Court ruling? We want that refugee kit and none of her grueling. Your government loves all us multicultural types, Have you not read all their propaganda hypes? I was thinking I’ll open a nice print shop, For documents and papers for whoever might stop.” But Bin” I said. “The Americans are right pissed off.” Just because you’re here, is no reason they’ll back off.” “They can’t do that to me,” he said, and raised a big long finger, “I’ll sneak around in certain parts of town and they wont know where I linger.”
Great poem.