Somewhere In Texas
by Melissa Jordan
You are packaged,
mantled jingoistically.
The flag is your butcher paper.
In your home town,
bored teens protest
in front of a recruiting office.
Taking your ten-second time slot on the news;
and the memory of your willingness to volunteer.
Two states away, a fiancé watches everyday,
for a black car,
and men in dark suits.
While auto-signed condolence letters are sent.
One of them to the address;
where just the other day
a rock was thrown
and smashed the window
that displayed a blue star.
The mother said another prayer,
as she swept up the shards.
And while even more are packaged,
mantled jingoistically--
The nation's leader watches football
at his ranch
somewhere in Texas.