Why are there so many
war machines?
Why is it that tragedy
is all we learn in history classes,
just an ashen list of battles,
just a score of the dead. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty.
And then they return
and the people laugh
sing
out of a desperate relief that masquerades as patriotism.
Listen, the mariachi band is playing.
Alexander is returned,
hail the conquering king.
The trumpets play for Napoleon,
the French army,
because he was undefeated.
Bow before them, all of them.
It is always the strong ones,
and leaders are made in war.
There would be no Juárez
without oppression
(sad sentence, isn’t it?
maybe we should do something)
far away, the cavalry fights
but here
just break open a piñata
and celebrate the fact that we lived.
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