Jesse Loesberg
An Ode to Donald Rumsfeld
What really scares me is that blurry photograph from the December 8th edition
of The Sunday New York Times, in which a brown-haired envoy from America clasps hands with his favorite
Middle-East dictator in 1983. I’d find it difficult to kill someone to whom I’d stood close enough
to see his teeth framed by a smile, and maybe that envoy feels the same way which is why he’s asking us to do it for him
today, from his swiveling chair buried inside the Pentagon, many offices away from the construction site
on the outside wall, where they’re trying to patch up the burnt-out hole made by that airplane
carrying all those people.
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