A Point in Which We Tether

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Toes hanging off the curb
Down from Franklin Square
We waited
For a vestige of cold combat
Between two ideologies
While standing in the shadows
Of Hubbard and Bell
It was the world
Fracturing the psyche
Of young minds

At some point in our lives
In the earliest light
Of our dawn
We are impressed
With a weight
A point at which
We tether
For the fortuitous
It’s a point
That broadens and grows
Like the horizon
In the early morning hours
And for those not so lucky
They moor themselves
Surrounded by the fog
That dims the world around them

Turning the corner
We saw the line of regal vehicles
Like slow moving change
Progress
Turning the corner
Two blocks down
They made their way
Toward us
Tiny flags snapped loudly
From each corner of the car
Tinted windows
Like dozens of mirrors
We count each car
And we see him
Windows down
Slightly hidden
Bald head
Displaying its port wine stain
And then he was gone
The world had come to me

I miss America
My world
Or what I thought it was

When the world gave me glimpses
And the scripted reality
Crafted immaturely
In soft tissue
Shielded me
When cells
Cooperated with each other
And misunderstood
What was being handed to it
Minute by minute
Second to second
When it mistook patriotism
To be pure
Or human kind
To be inherently gracious
Loving and gentle

It was just after lunch
When windows for miles away shattered
Collapsing concrete
That pancaked in a moment
Of dust and vibration
Death and ruination
And I sat in a car
Face pressed against the window
Thousands of miles away
In a foreign expanse
Watching soldiers
With no smiles
Circle the vehicle with mirrors
Opening trunks
And hoods
And I knew this to be a reaction
To something outside my world
Just beyond the fog of adolescence
They were fearful
Angry
Determined
The world had come to me

I miss America
My world
Or what I thought it was

When the bad guy
Was unquestionable
Like night in the middle of the ocean
And those in charge
Were infallible and faultless
Incapable of holding motives
That were perfidious
Religion represented
The righteous
Working diligently
To fix the wrongs of the world
Saving people
From hunger
And eternal damnation
When it wasn’t the source
Of discrimination
Injustice
Or caused drifting souls
To anchor
In stormy seas
Unable to see over
Crests of whitecaps

In the dark
The radio was alive
With the sounds of the world
Doling out justice
To the cunning and cultivated
The opulent who demoralized
Culture and economy
In the hot breath of wealth
Ignoring rampant inflation
They slept on the finest rugs
And we dropped bombs
To avenge those that danced
Under disco balls
And I couldn’t sleep
As I listened
To tales of family tragedies
Missed targets
And dead pilots
In that bed
The world had come to me

I miss America
My world
Or what I thought it was

When black was dark
White was light
And my ears and eyes
Were unable to decipher
Hidden code
Just beneath the surface

But the curtain opened
The show started
And I had cast my anchor
Far away
Away from the fog
Or whitecaps
A place where my convictions
Could exist
Settled and resolved
Eager for release

At some point in our lives
In the earliest light
Of our dawn
We are impressed
With a weight
A point at which
We tether

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