The odor was that of a good meal
I remember
It was in a backyard in Southern Illinois
The father was jovial, the afternoon sun
shone, and a cool breeze blew
He laughed
as he passed out the best slabs of meat
I’ll take the leavings, he says
It is like simple arithmetic
One stimulus and one response
All you need is an equal sign
and the hot air that drifts from the south
is erased, along with the soldiers
standing by, their guns at the ready,
just in case someone is still alive
After the building burns down to the ground
they take whatever belongings remain, and move
on to the next town