Wednesday, May 9, 2012

3641. ENGINE ROLL-UP AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING

ENGINE ROLL-UP 
AND I DON'T KNOW 
WHAT I'M DOING
Come forth from Elandraville,
friendly dog. That old South African
enclave was once my home too, and
I've not met anyone hailing from
there since 1982. Let's put down
the window glass, roll the awning
out, and just sit here glaring at
some wicked high tea and lemonade.
-
It was a very old Anglia she was 
driving, and he came by  -  and
unbelievably so  -  in what was,
back then, called a Humber 
Super-Snipe, a real 1960's car.
Parked together like that, even
their silly cars looked like sweethearts
on the South African veldt.
-
Yes,then, we just sat and waited.
They were still fighting harshly in
Vietnam  -  crazy American troops
and their allied British support-force
fools. Oh, everyone died together and
I guess it really made no difference.
While, here, in this swell place, the
blacks (as I would call them there)
had better, you said, 'keep their
place, mend their ways, and 
stay abreast of repercussion.'
-
Stay abreast of repercussion! What
a crazy phrase  -  I thought about it
and thought some more, over and over
turning the words : by repercussions
did you not mean retribution? And could
you not just have spoken that instead?
-
No, I guess not. In its place, murder on the
farmsteads, fiery necklaces of burning tires
'round dead men's necks, and  - of course  -
damned snookers and  tea at either noon 
or one, (I truly do forget).

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