SANDUSKY
HILL
Makes me fired up and crazy, all this loving
crap. Daughters of this and that, fires of the
old revolution. I'm watching the big election
flag roar to its end; fiery and crazy, it blazes
in the wind. All around are, still here, people
who yet believe in this crud. An old man with
a crucible cap, some tired old warrior from the
Battle of This, holds back a tear in saluting
that flag. He braves the cold weather - and
probably pneumonia too - to prove to his
waning manhood he's yet the man he once
was. Well he can go to my grave kicking his
poppy flowers all the way. It means nothing.
Sandusky Hill was a heap of garbage before
it even began. 'I pledge to do this for you all...'
The words pass, and the lousy echo lingers
in the uneven and bastardized breeze.
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