WAR STORY

I remember well the last war:
I was at Harvard.
My roommate,
Older, wiser, and
A bisexual Etch-a-Sketch portrait artist,
Answered to Claudia.

As the March for Peace
Slowly, loudly
Paraded beneath our window,
We ate Cream of Wheat and went to the gym
To escape our television set.

On parallel treadmills we marched,
Claudia and I,
And toughened our bodies,
To prepare for a week of sitting in old lecture halls.

Huddled in a crowded sauna,
She wanted to know why everyone was marching now?
Now that the war is in full swing.
"Where were they in September,
During the March on Boston?"
She wanted to know.
"Now that was a really great march," she said. "And it came at a perfect
time," she said, "because my boyfriend had just broken up with me, and
I needed that sense of purpose."
She knew that sounded lame, but it was true.

I closed my eyes and cooked silently
With five naked women in Eastern Massachusetts
As bombs destroyed Jerusalem.

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