augury doggerel

Tuesday, March 04, 2003

Rome, New York

I used to watch B-52s smoking over our campus, pilots and bombardiers gone to work, doing it until they didn't feel it. They must have counted cows, traced the roads we drove, targeted the buildings we slept in, tracked the imagined drops on imagined enemies, plotted cruise missile trails through town. They might have watched my little car on the way to something simple, lunch and books, lectures on odds and ends.


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