My Country.

• Author: Sadoff, Ira
• Position: Poem

MY COUNTRY Decipher me, we say to the wilderness. Perhaps we need our own private radios. If so, I'd be a station with too much static. Moreover, that sense-making trick, where you follow a thread from beginning to end, is wearing thin. Perhaps you'd like a little history to accompany the bloody nonsense. Like Lorca's toast to Franco, the bodega on a side street where murmurs meant less than mudslides in the public arena. There they'd shoot you for thinking, whereas here they soften you up while you ripen, until it's a little muddy in the brain field. Foggy too--so you'll enjoy the indoor shopping. They give you maps...