When too much of this world becomes just a
chore what is a person to do? Where to go,
how to hold, catch bright sunlight in a happy
hand? I go to visit West Point. Yes, rows of
antique canons and field guns on wheels. The
tradition is, and has been, every place 'taken'
somehow loses a field gun to this grassy display.
Yes, I've heard of trophies, but why not just
take heads here and put them on stakes? Far
easier to carry, I'd figure; less costly too, the
transport. So, instead, on this touristy field
we gift wrap the dead, or their guns anyway.
A few faltering beauties here too - girls, I
mean. Visitors, tours, families and friends of
cadets. All that stuff. Impatient dads, measuring
themselves, I'd bet, against guns. There's an
entire philosophical school of that jam all
around. When I got here, they inspected my
car - went through the trunk and under the
seats. I may look like a 'terror' to them - they
who go home at night to watch their buttoned
TV's and their open-flap wives, but they've got
better guns and ammo here than I'd ever get
from any Bunsalahama Mujahadeen you'd find.
El Hatar Boumedi too. When too much of this
world becomes just a chore, what is a person