They come for me in a big limousine. The driver, a

military man, tips his cap. I am suddenly a Mam.

Yes Mam, No Mam. I dress in a skirt of many flowers,

white blouse, ladylike. Hair brushed to the maximum.

Underneath I wear the poet’s uniform, skin of the jaguar.

The world prays here in unison at lunch. Then 2 thousand

spoons move synchronistically into two thousand youthful

mouths. A young woman tells me it has been her childhood

dream to land here. Another traces his family lineage

to be strictly “held in line.” A black daughter of

the army is gracious & direct; she likes the precision

of awakening at dawn. The light is friendly as it

slices off trees. Flags move slightly in the spring

breeze. Down a road I spy a maneuver in battle fatigues.

Three soldiers in battle fatigues silently blow up two

men & a cannon. They are a mirage of dancers. Now

they are hiding something. Another group is seeking

what they have hidden. Across the road men are marching

in tight formation. There is some remorse in the

conversation about the long ago war in Southeast Asia

after I read the poem with the lines “Then gathers strength

into something monstrous/right here along the coast of

your feelings.” But many of these officer gentlemen

never had to go there. I shout “Mega Mega Death Bomb” to

some polite applause. Now I want to make them laugh.

Who is to say who’s more awake? The heads and shoulders

of the cadets move harmoniously in the bright light. Their

shadows march against clean buildings. Spit and shine

Spit and shine. Tamed to be fierce, unbending under

the seasoned officer’s eye.