at some point to return, in lilacs, in dust, in tumbleweeds and tufts of matted fur. how about that, how about lice and lace and mesh and barbed wire and the tongues of children caught on the pointy bits like we were all massacred before someone could care. or perhaps past caring, perhaps we had deserved it all: towers set aflame by the wild desire of middle eastern boys promised haughty virgins and a seat at the right hand of allah, of god, of jehovah, of yahweh.
yes, yes, a return to all that; and your children sleep and dream and whisper if there are tooth fairies even in greece.