Tape Delay / Iteration #1
We woke up that morning, as usual.
Our eyelids flapping like unglued envelopes in a dust bowl.
We vowed to make it the best day ever.
We were assigned the task of claiming a clump of land AND raising it up the flag pole.
Orders were orders.
HQ was crazy.
Kowalski said that that was enough for him, took out his Swiss Army knife and cut the cord.
Gone from us forever we wondered if he had ever been with us to begin with.
It was that kind of war.
Stinky Rabinowitz, our chaplain, scattered some Oreos on the bunker floor.
When it hit us that we were our own Saviors tears coagulated into resolve.
Fair to middling coats were sutured together into Greatcoats.
Escaping the realm of pure imagination we met the brown children at the bus stop.
They were on their way to decaying schools filled with empty swimming pools.
We dissuaded Jamerson from adopting one as our “mascot.”
His heart was in the right place but it often breached the dyke.
This gave everyone second and third thoughts.
We had no time for fourths as the Cock Had Crowed.
Why were we fighting?
Who were we fighting?
How were we fighting?
It would all be revealed when we slaked our thirsts at the Lethe,
Flags darkened the sky and sullen clomps of terra firma dropped on our baseball caps
Like fat fingers of an impatient businessman drumming a cherry oak conference table.