Droplets on a glass
Heady feeling of the end
And steady chatter

Though the chemical gas was a fable,
rebel terror we’ll arm and enable;
we will kick their Assad
with some help from Mossad
and create something TRULY unstable.

Little victims, all Syrian-bred
look pathetic: so small, nearly dead.
Lack of documentation
won’t dampen our nation;
from YouTube to bombing we’re led.

War-hawks pause for no burden of proof.
Show a whimpering child and then— **** !
They, rush in, like a fool
using Trump as their tool.
He’s been militarized. What a goof.

You are a freedom I dare to indulge in. You are rooftops and walks. You are explorations of old hotels and hardbound books left in shelves. You are a moment (of clouds of dust and abandon) that filled a niche in my being. I have niches far too many to count. I have walked far too many walks. I have sat on rooftops I still miss. I have explored and I have saved moments that are nothing now but accumulated dust. I have hardbound my stories in poems. In my audacity, I am keeping you now - my hopeful space, my abandon.

for l.r.
**041718