Bill had a lot to
Thank America
For (he didn’t think

So, that pile of ash,
That heap of broken
Promises, arms and

Hands of lethal touch,)
But he never said
As much. The good old

American Way,
His father hammered
Into him by words

And speech, not by touch
Of hand as other
Fathers may. Bill’d

Seen the ***** dark
Undergarments of
The American

Way, the hushed secret
Dealings, the dark deeds,
The unofficial

Killings, the *****
Tricks or silencing
Of witnesses of

The alternative
View; the communists,
Liberals of too

Soft a heart, those who
Poked their noses in
Too deep into the

Mire came under
Fire, disappeared
Or were loss or killed

In those accidents
Conveniently
Arranged, or so their

Close relatives feared.
Bill knew all this; smelt
***** from a great height;

The double talk and
Values; grim men in
Dark suits. The money

That could buy, silence
And distance. Bill loved
The American

Queer guys, the ones he
Could hold, kiss and ****
And softly pillow

Talk until the small
Hours sipping and
Smoking. Mother used

To tuck him up in
Bed and kiss his brow
And whisper soft words.

Both his parents were
Gone now, into the
Big sleep, where God or

The deep silence, their
U.S. souls will keep.