[oats]

past holed up in the same desert my future lies
ceramic echoes of my family’s rumblings for food supplies
my wife and son bite their tongue with their beautifully muted eyes
a slice of crumbs the nightly sum once the house has been scrutinized
doom arrived (it unionized) when two men spied our home
the cool of night euthanized the mood of private groans
they knuckled at the entrance and presumed to stride in slow
with rifles slung across their backs like a neglected child in tow.

mild in tone, they motioned me to step outside with them
put their hands on my back - and sympathized with the situation I was in
“you work hard just to starve,” they said, “that’s not a life, my friend-
but we came here with a deal that will make things right again.”

as quick as light can bend they unveiled their wild intentions -
sticks with Chinese letters looped together in wired extensions
but the purse! - half a year’s pay - held my eyes for a second;
the presence of the money was divine intervention

the light of the heavens! overflowing my cup of both hands
this was kebab, hummus, shwarma, plus another couple goats and
no grip of my stomach’s demands in this prison of mud brick and sand
and no more wearing shirts that say “49ers 2013 Superbowl Champs!”

I snapped out of the romance - reality had strings attached to it
“This bag is the down payment; it’s only half, use it
to get to Damascus. Wait for the bus with upper-class schoolkids.
You get a sandwich if you plant it - a grand for your fam if you’re strapped to it.”

You might think that’s stupid but you do what you must do
I placed the vest over my shoulder: “We knew we could trust you.”
I gave the money to my wife, went and hugged my son goodnight
They said I’d get 72 virgins - hope they threw in some sluts, too.

***

I heard the bus move through the bustling streets -
amidst the murmurings that Rebel Army numbers increased
paranoia was as palpable as the insufferable heat
but once the bus came into view, I had nothing to see

I tugged at the seams of my coat, felt the sticks of oblivion
this was religious duty, my job as a municipal citizen
fuck those over-privileged little kids - it was my son’s only chance to live to be significant
another life of struggle turned statistic of ignorance

this gift of belligerence hurdled me forward
with swiftness, indifference I circled toward it
in a lurching contortion I unfastened the harness
tragedy! carnage!
the bus careened into traffic and ramshackle apartments
at the last second I think I heard a laugh as the car hit
and when I came to…I ran as fast as I could manage to the path where I started
(besides, I could really use that sandwich they promised…)

it wasn’t honorable, but fuck it, I know it’ll pay
I didn’t fight for my life for so long just to throw it away
my soul is decayed, but I get another second of breath, right?
I guess I’ll have to wear this mask until I get to the next life