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Showing posts from May, 2009

Cold War Redux

Angela Counts © 2009 Jamaica Pond (Boston, MA) He drives by sometimes and sees them inside Flushed cheeks full of grease But tasty Whatever concoction they are chewing Tastes good to them He on the other hand has refined tastes In small portions He is watching his weight It never varies two or three pounds in either direction Unless he is careless He drives by, the tint and bulletproof Blocking out the din and laughter of the untaught He is gifted in the knowledge that he is special, apart But he is troubled by the bomb, and the stars They hope for what they don’t have and Have more than they need Food, house, loans Children, not too many of these Fore they too are children in their way Life is like a playground after all, Where the adults work Hard so they can play, and buy He buys too, but he can afford it He drives by, no bullets tonight Just words and thoughts The future has become the present Different than what he expected And what he expects