Thomas Bell Nashville, USA Adrift in Posttraumatic Space Ahh at last at last at the at the last at the last of long travails I can rest. Tonight Tonight I can write I can write of wide-spread license the silent tonight I can drink waters of memory Tonight I can feel bitterness, tears, rumors whitewash ing fences. Cover thickened spaces we cannot we cannot traverse alone. Tonight I can see Waco, that dry pristine air surrounding the cabin enclave, TX in a lone truck moving on to unabomb OK City and here I sit watching hoping awaiting channeling TV Tonight I can hope. Peoria. Black churches in flames and that truck moved moved on moved on by the moved on by the traffic cop held the answer. Tonight I can pretend or we again could play cowboys and Indians cops and Robbers citizens and Tanks star wars defense and The Other or I could end or I could make it hyme or relate or make sense or this it is not. Tonight I can grieve at last at the end at the end of my at the end of my days.

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