pick a day
where none of the wars
involve you

describe the sky
and the taste of the wind

do the hills spin slowly around
this piece of land you
call home?

are you in love?

there is a point
where these questions intersect

a place where your shadow is
as tall
as the man you actually are
and somewhere in the back of your mind
is a list of all the runaway girls
you knew in the summer
of butchered nuns

a list of all the reasons they gave
and now it’s ten years later
and still
no one has stopped running

it happens

anger is only another needle
waiting to be worshipped

the patron saint
of raped cheerleaders
is a myth

and these are not new rumors
and no one’s pain
is unique

no one’s future
is written

and still
it’s not that hard to guess
how badly the stories
of the disappeared
will end

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