ISLANDS IN THE PACIFIC
The young shouldn't pay attention. To
the beasts
who live upstairs in their parent's
room. Their hearts
are black with disappointment.
To cheer up my mother I used to tell
her about
the poor Irish peasants who used to be
ravaged every weekend
by the Norsemen. Pillaging. Raping.
Plundering. You can't imagine how they felt
about long weekends.
Sometimes I open the freezer door and
laugh. Bring
on winter. Courage is something you
have to
imagine. And there will be those who
faint
When the war is lost or the child is
born.
Islands in the Pacific. Plastic lands
that Vonnegut
warned us of. Natives there live in
commercials. The last
place anyone would look to survive.
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