"Thoughts After Reading The Morning Paper"
I was born during a time
when gin-filled cars sped through country roads
in the dark of night,
and women with Pond's Cold Cream
on their faces, went to bed wearing satin gowns,
cut low and very tight.
I'm living in a time
when cocaine filled cars speed through streets
all the day and night,
and young men with blood and fear
on their faces, go to bed wearing black plastic,
cut high and zipped up tight.
These young men die
with the hearts in their chests jumping wildly,
like frenzied frogs in a sack,
and death arrives
drawing down its sanguine blinds, hiding mothers
who try to yank them back.
I want to die in a time when this suffering
that roars
is but a murmuring hymn, and eyes
will open to the sun, willing to pay a debt of blindness
to bear its light once more.
Posted January 21, 1997
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