has me feeling
as a child
on a leaky boat.
I arrive home to
to save the date please.
Anzac Day weekend
a wedding uniting Greek
and Aussie battlers.
Why am I asked to provide
one hundred and thirty-nine dollars?
Why not one hundred and thirty-nine kisses
for the angels building tent cities
or one hundred and thirty-nine bullets
to shoot the builders of barrel bombs?
From one continent - one country
the border crossings seem inane,
my circumstances seem so simple:
a mortgage, rooms to play in, music
and literature to calm the soul, a
secure job, & loving family intact.
helpless as a child
bullets – kisses - dollars