Ernesto Guevara Chez Everywhere

by Martha Chaves

YOU run into Ché's face everywhere
Ché's face repeating itself like a photocopy of a broken record
with a serious fixation of
déja vu
On t-shirts tank-tops panties coffee cups key-chains can openers
bongs clocks Johnny Depp's pendant hookers calves . . . wallets!
All over the world
Items in every color, size and shape.
Sometimes in neon and multiplied by four, Like Warhol's
portrait of Marilyn Monroe
The revolutionary relentlessly mugs you.
At exclusive boutiques
capitalist Ché chic
and even at Goodwill . . .
donated by someone who outgrew college.
You can't escape his face ticket priced and whored!

Once -- I swear -- I saw in a chic pet store in Westmount, Quebec, a
fuchsia woolen sweater
for a dog . . .
a mere 100 dollars, no more. . . bearing the bearded face

of Ernesto Guevara A.K.A. El Ché
Revolutionary extraordinaire unrepentant hero for those he didn't do in Evil for the ones he became a ''killing machine'' -- in his own words --
under which color of lens is he seen.
Perspective is everything.
Thing is,
If he could see a poodle wearing
a sweater and in
the sweater he could see his face bearded and bereted
brave, bold and determined . . .
he would die again a hundred thousand deaths and
spinning in his grave he'd get to meet Lenin
And tell him,
''Look at this . . . this is bullshit
I was in the middle
of a view finder
and now I am worn everywhere
even by antagonists''
And Lenin would say,

''C'mon comrade! At least you are on a T-shirt
just 'cause you're a hairy Latin
Better looking than Enrique and Ricky Martin
I am old and bald . . . no photo of me
cavorts around the planet
So who cares if they don't know
what is it that you did or you did not?
It's all about the fame!
Communism shmomunism antidisestablishmentarianism
You have done more for the revolution than Mao Tse Tung!
and the Bolsheviks, you are bigger than Jesus!
and ...almost as well known as The Beatles
(But it was the Stones immortalized us in
'Sympathy for the Devil') What I mean is, who cares if all they know is you look great in a beret . . .
. . . what's your name again?''
--''Ché, but that's short for...Hey Lenin...where are you going
don't you want to hear a knock knock joke?''
Lenin turns around thinking Ché is speaking 'bout knocking regimes
not about, politely, asking to go in
a dwelling,
He says, ''OK, Ché, shoot!,''
Ché goes,
''Knock Knock'',
--Who's there?,
''Ché who?''
''Voulez vous cou Ché avec moi c'est soir?''
Lenin, furious, replies: ''Ask the ones wearing the T shirt. I am no homo. I am a Bolshevik''

Statistics show only two out of ten people know the man behind the face
and his legacy for the human race -- considering the different perspectives:
--Hero or Killing machine (we are all trapped by duality)
--Saint to sing praises to or homicidal maniac possessor of the stare
of lunatics and a star on a beret bearded and hairy on the red and
black ''Doberman mouth'' colors that symbolize rabid youth and rebellion
against . . . whatever!
Some say, ''I wear it because he is handsome''
Had Ché been homely looking like Gandhi
Chubby like Dr. King,
or butt ugly like Levesque, Rene . . .
He would not be bought and sold by people who don't know 'bout him
I asked some young guy, ''But, tell me, can you identify the man
in the T-shirt?''
He said:
e is hum the lead singer of 'Rage against the Machine?'
Elvis when he was thin?''
I could tell in his grave Guevara is still spinning
and still feeling lonely and underrated -- in secret -- undeserving . . .
All depends under what lens he sees himself . . .
All he knows very well is that he is dead . . .

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