Scrang
the sirens go. We're led from one crisis to the
next, whether it's a hurricane or a foreign intervention or the dead
at
Brown's Chicken (you can kill 7
people before midnight and get away with it) in
Palatine, Illinois. Cop shows beat us in front of ourselves.
There is no time for reflection, only a stilted
genuflection at each virtual funeral.
Quiet contemplation is discouraged— even drycleaning chemicals
make us sick.
Glazed with the patina and muck of a whole culture built on destroying
yesterday.
Collective memory is hosed out and
patted into caloric units of the whitewashed milquetoast truth.
Look at Ollie North— he whacked us over the head and we let him
run for Senator.
That's deranged. Oh, the rabbit squeals in each ear,
the rabbit squeals indeed.
© 1995 Daniel X. O'Neil
Epigraphs Dedication Foreward 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 |
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