20160903 (future)

US Labor Day - day off, sweet corn, hot dogs, burgers, military displays, and recruiting

Yemen any day - US-made cluster bombs blew this child's arms off and charred his body
 

I wasn’t supposed to be here

This weekend for the annual

Cleveland Air Show which

Prominently features aerobatics

By US Navy flyers in F-18s.

I was to have left town the day

After closing, traveled west

For a week with Loki and 

Sophia in the cab of a small

U-Haul with the X-B on a 

Trailer behind. We’d have 

Been there a week by now 

And I’d know a little better

How my life would be for 

Its last years. None of us

Manistas make it to 80

And I’m counting on my

Genetics to play true to form.

But the “best laid plans

Gang aft aglee” and now

After a bit of moping (as I

Am so prey to bitter birds)

I've finally cheered enough

To resume writing, dieting,

Philosophizing, and reading.

As for the books Andy tells

Me I’m making a big mistake

Reading Angela’s Ashes while

Any bit depressed. “So the

Irish drank and were poor

And suffered,” he said, “No

Reason for you to go through

It if you’re feeling bad already.”

Maybe not. Can’t really explain

What draws me to these poor

When the world is full of so 

Many others and nobody seems

To care to count them. Not just

As a total—but to count them 

As people, not in this country

Nor where we’re daily 

Bombing them. Yeah, I know

We can say we’re currently not

Bombing anybody. We’ve got

Proxies to do it—Saudis in

Yemen, and word is we’re

Helping both sides in the 

Syria/ISIS melee blow each

Other to kingdom come. And

Nobody cares. Last year on

The Labor Day weekend I

Went to a corner on East 9th 

And passed out handbills 

About our drone programs where

We're daily killing God

Knows whom or how many

In the war on terror (WOT).

When the light turned red I

Could do a little bit about

Obama’s Killer Tuesdays when

He reviews files and decides

Who they should assassinate

The next morning. Or I’d tell 

Them about how pilots who

Sat at the video screens in New

York and Nevada playing Blast-

A-Bug for twelve hours are

Reporting PTSD from explosions

Halfway around the world

Because they had no assurance

They were killing enemies

And not enemies’ children.

Maybe next Labor Day I’ll be

Too busy thinking of my own

Three granddaughters to worry

About the people our nation

Is terrorizing, maiming, and 

Killing somewhere too far 

Away for people to care.

But I doubt it. As long as I’m

Alive enough to think and to 

Write, they won’t be

Forgotten.

c. J.S.Manista, 2016