The Pancake Cascade of Commerce

The Pancake Cascade of Commerce fell

Upon my head

Like rain from a dystopian future


Above the rain, the bullhorn yelled

A call to avenge the dead

I heard it clear as bombs on the harbor

And the cries of ‘41


The bullhorn echoed loudly

“Tell it to the Marines!”

So I signed some papers and asked to be pointed

In the direction of the heathens


I marched ahead to repair my soul and

Mend the damage wrought

By all the falling pieces—the whole

Of a lost ideal sought.


Clouds of dust became

A rallying cry for wounded masses

Demanding justice, they sent me

To repair the commerce tower

To deliver the jumpers back

To corner offices and views of the city


But all I have is a gun.

June, 2011