Chicano Poet

Friday, August 19, 2005

American Pie

Not that it matters how they die,
a sniper’s bullet in the face,
the always popular roadside bomb,

the unexpected charge of the light brigade,
six or seven foreign fighters
we are led to believe.

Sometimes it’s just a rollover,
a tank sinking in the river,
the crew drowning.

We don’t know what this war is all about,
but in the end our soldiers die
no matter how you cut up the pie.

Here’s a slice for you,
here’s a slice for you
and here’s a slice for me.

Those aren’t strawberries,
those aren’t cherries,
that’s just what George Bush buries!


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