War, Lafayette to Wilkes-Barre my hurting arm from twelve-hour Indiana to Pennsylvania drive but I'm not a refugee, not carrying anything, not losing anything not fleeing anything, not ducking anything nor swerving the car to avoid more than semis careening down 80 at 80 not bomb craters, people, buildings - can't sleep so go to melatonin, but not fear of flame, fire, scream might take vicodin for the fever but it will pass - once again outside in the cold air going driving through storm but not shrapnel, missiles, bullets - driving through construction, traffic, backed-up semis but not like this and not like that - not like the others or the red-haired woman by the beach or the lonely e-flat clarinet in the antique shop waiting for a mouth not like the rim of fire - high winds, not like the high winds from the rim of fire not like this, not like that - but not like that, not like this oh fuck I can't write about anything nothing has ever happened to me not like that, not like this we'll all write about the war which isn't the war we'll all feel we're doing something we're passing on mail, passing on information don't read this, move on, there's a ball of fire in the sky which I can't even imagine dragging herself through the ruins