Birthday Poem [2010]

After the protest, I sat her down at a table in the Student Union and told her I intended to write a poem about her.  She smiled, crossed her legs, lit a cigarette, and said: "Don't".  Stunned speechless, I turned and retreated to the parking lot.

Pacing nervously, I struggled to come to grips with her statement, as the National Guard marched back over Blanket Hill.

I returned to find her gone.  Next to the ashtray, where her Kent still smoldered, was an envelope addressed to me.  I grabbed it, stuffed it into my bag, and turned to leave, as a series of gunshots rang out in the distance.

Early the next morning, in the back seat of my parents' car, I remembered the envelope and took it out.  It contained a greeting card, featuring a silly picture of a jackalope carrying a rifle.  Inside, she had written: "There's no such thing as understanding.  Happy birthday, Sandy."