The pine tree rained needles
upon the Somali and me,
misfits among everyman and
anyman, like fundamentalists
stuffing ones at the titty bar, isolated by
tobacco smoke,50 feet from the building, 'for your
young man, 'said the uniform.
'What you are? ' I think Omar asked, 'you
where your people come from? '
The break area hummed, an inexorable, patient, steady
as a whack on the sole ('doesn't leave marks')
on a cold desert night, in the mountains, in a land before
People, In Touch, even National Geographic.
picnic table, though most of the other
wellness types stayed inside with the
guarding the dust and radon, cardboard cases echoing free trade from
Vietnam, Mauritania, beyond, chewing on aches, pains,
allergies, & 'I only
got five hours of sleep..'
'The young girl, she is good, '
*Because she believes whatever you tell her? *
(an angel danced upon my knee…)
I shop @ Wal-MartYou call me infidelogle my sister &burn my car &we’ll settle-up in Hell
A titter rose up among the 'ins':
one exceptional seasonal ('works
two jobs and goes, to
snug in their alcove,
Where differences melt away like
outdated superstitions in a classless society, un-
willing to share as the natives did
Pilgrims proceeded to take over the whole kitchen.
'The Christians, you
ahead of God; you put Jesus
Cumulus clouds aloft a waxing crescent bespoke
September along the
far horizon, remote but inevitable, threatening the
August sun w/ auguries of the stark shut-in cold of endless
February looming on
the other side of Christmas's pillar of
Eternal mirth and
'I'm gonna' ask him if he's waiting for
move that box, ' any-
man (no El Cid) said. *No! You think Jesus
whacked...* Omar's friends
pulled up in
well BEYOND THIS POINT, like
girls in a
threshold fattened by color-blind
festooned with Ignorance and
enforced by wishful thinking. 'When Clinton is in,
is good. Now Bush in, bad.'
on Minot Avenue slows a Rush Hour throng*
'...our correspondent is in the Field...'
And the titter rolled, like the
on the Library @ Alexandria
(a threat now
ty cyberworld, where
Internet Hot Links
Offer every love that
in [reasonably] polite society-
-all you need is Pay Pal
or Matricula, and a
Modem) . 'I switch to second shift, for
children.' More laughter, unrelated but
ear like a
'A man does not laugh like that, ' he said, eyes
peaceful as submission, Tolerant as dhimmitude.
'You'll see, ' he said, resenting my
(laugh out loud)
The ins (nary an El Cid among 'em) stood- as if united in dar-al-
harb defiance of
sans Messianic filter- signaling break-
*...teenage girls found murdered in the
Back Seat of
their father's taxi...*
'...our correspondent is in the field...'
~~Wave after wave, like Programmed
on vinyl, way BEYOND THIS POINT
at a speed yet to be defined, even in Arabic numbers,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem