Lonnie Garamond was disturbed by the face
That looked back at him from the bathroom mirror. He looked older than he
Remembered
It was as if all forty-two years of his life
Had suddenly leap frogged over each other
And crash landed in his face.
He was middle-aged and the truth hit him
Like a man with no parachute. The eyes were golfballs, the skin hung on his
Face like a cheap suit. And the trapdoor of greasy black frizz
That he combed from one side of his head to the other, to hide his baldness
In reality emphasized it. It was 2:30 in the morning Nov. 22nd 1963 and
Lonnie couldn't sleep.
Lonnie took a last look at the face and popped another sleeping tablet
Under his sandpaper tongue and slipped into a cold, dark sleep.
The last thing Lonnie saw, before his eyes finally closed, was his camera
Watching him from the other side of the motel room, but the camera wasn't
Loaded yet.
Lonnie Garamond was a loser.
Lonnie Garamond was a loser.
Lonnie Garamond was a loser and he really hated being that.
Lonnie's body clock woke him at 8:30 sharp. He stabbed a button by his bed
And the TV crackled into life showing the crowds already gathering in Dealy
Plaza. He showered, shaved, and slipped into an Ivy League jacket and brown
Slacks and loaded the camera. The Stetson put the icing on the southern
Cake
And he headed for the parking lot leaving the key behind in his room. He
Knew he wouldn't be coming back.
Lonnie Garamond was a loser.
Lonnie Garamond was a loser.
Lonnie Garamond was a loser and he really hated being that.
Lonnie parked the Buick and ran down Pacific St. It was
12.15 and he wanted to be outside the Texas School Book Depository before
The motorcade came down Elm St.
12.20. He elbowed his way through a group of good ol' boys and stood next
To a kid in a wheelchair waving a Confederate flag.
12.25. He took off the lens cap and lit his first cigarette for two years.
He checked the focus one last time and blew a smoke ring into the blue
Dallas heat haze.
12.30 He ground the Lucky Strike under the heel of his boot and calmly
Squeezed off three shots.
Lonnie put the camera back into it's case
And melted into the panic.
Lonnie Garamond was a loser.
Lonnie Garamond was a loser.
Lonnie Garamond was a loser and he really hated being that.
