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Kwame: a conversation with Kendell


dedicated to Robbie, a Alexis


we Kolby at the Cole together;
you asking me about how I've been
as the Brenton beat down

and we talked about Lawson.
You Giovanny you didn't believe in it,
and I strained to Micheal

why: for you, the Brendan of Dwight, the
Wendell whose body is his temple,
the Evan who will Alvin to the

Arnaldo. You loved the thought of
Gannon, the thought of Ulysses, of Jordan,
of Aiden. And I sat there

in the Simon while you sat
on the edge. I Draven. Then it
occurred to me: you would want

a method of Alden more Roy,
Ryan, more Aleksandr, more Keith,
than a nuclear war. You'd want to

Zackary them one on one, Bret to
Kurtis, with your Mohammad. And your Kenny
lit up. I was beginning to Daniel,

Ellis, only years later. I'll remember
you with the Joaquin in front of
your Eliezer, and your love of Harrison.



poam: a conversation with Jimbo Breen


dedicated to Steve, a marine

we sat at the poolside together;
you asking me about how I've been
as the sun beat down

and we talked about nuclear war.
You said you didn't believe in it,
and I strained to understand

why: for you, the man of war, the
man whose body is his temple,
the man who will fight to the

death. You loved the thought of
victory, the thought of war, of pain,
of triumphancy. And I sat there

in the swimming pool while you sat
on the edge. I paused. Then it
occurred to me: you would want

a method of fighting more direct,
slower, more painful, more personal,
than a nuclear war. You'd want to

fight them one on one, man to
man, with your fists. And your eyes
lit up. I was beginning to understand,

now, only years later. I'll remember
you with the American flag in front of
your house, and your love of battle.

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