MANIFEST DESTINY
Lamplighter destiny : they all come down
from the campgrounds holding lanterns and
seeking direction. I tell them the end is not
an ending and there is no going on. They
are satisfied with that most stupid note. Up
above our heads, the McGuire Air Force jets
go screaming by. Wrightstown, I believe it is,
and such a miserable place - a dollar-store
selling pens by the bundle of twelve, and a lurid
dance bar with half-naked girls where the airmen
relax reading Kindles. In the Mullica River, not so
far off, some kids are swimming naked, a few boys,
a few girls. They scream as a low-flying fighter-jet
takes a practice-dive over their heads. Like some
Vietnam horror-film-flashback, I see them on fire
and burning. It all lasts but a minute. Outside the
perimeter of the town, on Rt 206, a sign reads - in
front of yet another dance-bar, go-go girls is the term
still used - advertising its upcoming two-day party.
'99 dancers, all you can eat'. I want to laugh 'til I die.
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