HOLIDAYS AND ENVELOPES
People are charring steaks in five hundred awful
backyards - talking of feeble things, comparing notes
and cards. The backs of numberless houses are
crowded today. Glad I'm not a cow.
-
I'm not in attendance at anything, thank goodness.
My mind would wander, and I hate military things :
remembering the living dead is the same to me as
remembering the dead already. Soldiers taking
orders differ little to me from drones or slaves.
Yet they claim to fight for freedom, in chains.
-
Once there was a time, in its infancy, when something
like Memorial Day meant remember the dead in quiet
and solace and alone - quietly, to oneself and then
move on. It had dignity, for the dead. Now its a
blabbermouth fest of the living ghouls in uniform
and others who shout for them. Like an envelope,
with all kinds of crap stuffed in.
-
Keep me quiet, brother. Shut me down, my friend.
I am watching the sky-lit underworld rise again.
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