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Buried under the wall
by David N. Muxo
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"Something there is that doesn't love a wall." Robert Frost If I were a better man, and had the courage to see the Wall, I would run my fingers over its smooth black surface. It would be cold, this world's largest tombstone. I would look for my buddy's name, and then for mine. I would look for the America I knew before the music died; I do not think I would find it among the "A" names there. Like my fallen friends, like my innocence, this land, my land, from the purple mountains majesty to the California islands is buried under the Wall. If I were a better man, I would turn to watch the children dance with flowers in their hair. They would not remember my friends, or me, or my America, the way it used to be. |