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You keep your history guarded to the east, 
Hermetically sealed, bulletproofed. You
Sing star spangled when the house lights go
Down & the pyrotechnics begin. Your fists
Are clenched to the south, holding on tight

To the air in your pockets, trying not to ex-
Plode. You look north at night & can’t put
Your New American finger on the lode star
But trust you are going the right direction.  
You travel west toward the Comstock, jack-
Pots, the salt flats of land speed records &
Nuclear testing sites where inside the blast
Radii no living thing will grow for a million
Years & the desert blown to glass, leaving
You a million miles w/out any place to hide. 

Posted 04/28/15
This poem is from A NEW AMERICAN FIELD GUIDE and SONG BOOK, coming soon from H_NGM_N Books.
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