Is It Time To Fight? Not Yet. Let’s Drink.

for Erika Szeles instead of going out to dinner on Thursday night like usual let’s pick up some sub-machine guns go out into the countryside and practice making out the difference in silhouettes on the horizon between Nazi American idiots spraying bullets in the air and our friends holding forks and spoons still swishing wine in their mouth and spitting blood on the ground as they fold over with rocks they have eaten for lack of food have you looked up in the sky recently there are again yellow stars falling but this time with red crescent moons the machines have grown hungrier and autonomous it’s true what anyone says the ground is unstable winds are blowing hard to the right and we don’t want to be blowin’ in them nor should we put up a sail– blue white red yellow black whatever coloured starred striped– we don’t want to catch those answers when we meet let’s put on face cream as if we are soldiers in the city reading books as the snow falls like it did for more than ten years after nineteen thirty six much too late when almost a century later a soldier can sit behind a keyboard wearing the uniform of a tracksuit writing about a Hungarian teenager who became a rebel soldier who joined the red cross who went to help her shot friend who was gunned down and died instantly who was buried in Kerepesi Churchyard in Budapest who will train us how to fight as we dance around Berlin in the pre-war era of twenty twenty five