poem
Volume 34, Number 2

An American ballad

the day is warm
the coffeehouse is full
today we live our lives
fully automatic

a dozen preschoolers
a retired couple in the park
murmuring prayers now
fully automatic

the growl of airplanes
whiteline interstate
hoping to spend more time
fully automatic

smoke without fire
a heaviness in the limbs
words we learned as children
fully automatic

the disorientation returns
mood-altering routine
your advertising choices recorded
fully automatic

brass clinks on tiles
bugles and bagpipes
alone in intensive
fully automatic

it happens again
the same, but different
it happens again
fully automatic


—Richard Magahiz