PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

There were three of us this morning

On the line.  "That's two in a row."

Then my debtor quipped it was warm in Africa.

Washington was easing into fall.

Something explodes.  The numbers know.

I hear a helicopter but it's not our own.

I watched Saigon fall

While my brother, he read Superman.

"Tonight, when I came home from work..."

We believed in something

But today it seems an old way.

A pang of ancient history blusters.

I pack a book on Macarthur.

A woman scurry's through the office,

Frantic in imperfect Arabic.

Her face is strained, muted,

Untenable and unraveling.

"Tonight, when I came home from work..."

It's possible there isn't time.

I fold up my laptop.  An old friend comes by.

I remember when I watched Saigon fall

While my brother leafed through Superman.

"Tonight..."