fallujah, fall ‘04

disillusionment, disentanglement, disappointment
the fall is here, has fallen upon us
and the first frost of the season solidifies my grief.

warm hands of summer, slick with sweat
from the anticipation we made with pressed bodies
pressed like sentimental flowers in heavy textbooks
we felt permanent or worth saving under the weight
of pages and words.

hot heat of Athens’ summer streets,
walking with nothing following us,
walking with no destination,
the ruins were the ones frozen in time.
they watched us with admiration and astonishment
and they held their poses with grace and respect
for we were free to come and go like Michaelangelo
we were the masters
of us.

back to Buda, back to Pest,
back in time to my father’s immigrant past
we stood in the spot where Stalin was torn down
we laid in the square unafraid, feeling the anomie of generations since
culminating in my stratified self, broken down so many times
into so many pieces of pain, and like a kaleidoscope, She saw me
and said, “You are beautiful.” and she glued my pieces together.

but New York City welcomed us back
with the rat leading the way to the dizzying pace of complacency.
under the thumb of nothing but our own idiosyncrasies,
placating ourselves daily with ephemeral pleasures
like the mentally disturbed taking their meds.

© november 2004

fallujah image