emma b. says

Friday, May 14, 2004

Friday night

darlin' sweet darlin' I'd gladly sell my soul down the river, for a pair of strong arms tonight and a kiss on the temple. Holler from my temple. Holler from my mountain, I've slept alone too many nights.

To all of the loners, the crazies and the zealots may your various gods grant you a night of reprieve, as the night is waning on my coast and dawn is breaking wherever you are, may the sun and the stars bring us all a pin point of hope. The most feeble shaft of light, let it serve as a beacon.

Let us pray now, pray from our insulated, secular cubes, let us pray, let us out pray those who would see us done. Pray to your Pantheon, pray to your Congresswoman, pray to your rabbi, pastor, martyred saint, pray to your newspaper, preferred website, pray for a bit of respite.

What would we do, what would we do, bombed out bummed out, swept up in a sweep, innocent in any other means. Stripped down, stripped out, hounded by dogs, clubs and guns.

I would offer as the Iraqi prisoner did when he was Saddam's guest, I would give seventy thousand prayers... Prayers unanswered, where is God in all of this?

What has happened to us, I believed in my native land, I believed in America. And what have we become, when Douche Limb-bog endorses torture as a way to "let off steam" and Bush and Co. dissembles and reassembles according to whimsy.

What happens when my father, he of the "Fuck Iran" tee-shirt of the late seventies. What happens when my father, hippie turned community leader says your mother and I are considering Vancouver. What happens when you are trying to console your weeping boomer papa, who is increasingly weepy with each assault on His America.

It breaks my heart, it is no longer His America we are a nation of bots, each toeing the party line.... I could go on to describe them, but the truth is that I am tired.

And as I said earlier, I would gladly surrender a limb or so to lose myself in a body that was not my own.


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