January 15, 1991
The armies lined up in the desert
Sand in their mouths, sweat running down
Their young faces, are blithe,
Some of them surprised, their chins
Set with soft adolescent bravado,
Contemplating war.
Older perfumed men in suits in cities
Speak into microphones and suck on mints.
They have stepped beyond surprise,
Beyond sincerity, wrapped themselves
In gray symbols and gestures,
Contemplating war.
They are going through the motions,
Constructing a geometrical proof
For their own names, for the story
That will be told next century
Of these gamy gaming days,
Contemplating war,
Contemplating history
Too soon, it seems.
It’s always too soon
To be contemplating war.
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