"It's not that we don't fu-mess up,

  it's that we keep (i)redeeming(i) ourselves," a little brother told an older brother.  The husbands had come from a thick cloud of rubble and debris dust.  Previews of all of us old and gray. 

  One wife took a wet cloth out of a plastic bag and wiped a man's lips.  They kissed like no tomorrow.  Another furtively approached one of the men and spoke low and shy.  "All those people, this morning, were outside the neighbor's place because," her voice trembled and the tears came.  The man put down a shovel and held the woman close.  "Our neighbor died," he told everyone.  "He was old." 

  "Letting you know I'm not dead," the text read.  People at the Wailing Wall were in the shade with the sun above, out of reach. 

  "No, they're not dead.  But America is so far away, I (i)grieve(i) them." 

"Well, that's how a lot of people are," the curls

of the woman's hair were smashed down in some parts and flopping as she spoke.  "If it's not an argument, they don't know what to do." 

  "Other people are too weary to fight about anything else now." 

  "We just woke up.  (i)My GOD(i)." 

  "I think it's a good sign.  I mean you're talking about people who have a shredded sense of humanity.  Better to fill in on the wrestling rope and vie for some kind of government than to do nothing." 

  "I'm sick of listening to it." 

  "So shut it out.  Let's make latka." 

"We gotta go."

  "WHY?" 

  A disjoined army of Assistants was "breaking camp". 

  "Short or long answer?" 

  "Both." 

  "In a nutshell, the locus of power is imploding.  Happens every transition." 

  "Like an election?" 

  A slight nod so as not to out self as "political".  "And before," eyes looked down at solid earth, "More battling." 

  "BECAUSE if you are not going to be Academic about it, I cannot let you use it." 

  The boyman's shiney with Aloe face ran its courses between leprechaun and gleaming-good knight.  "Then (i)I will(i)," he controlled his voice emotions. 

  "What do you mean? Stay?" 

  "It's a nice enough town." 

  "I guess it would be an act of resistance for people to actually care about each other." 

  "Especially in this (i)eye for an eye(i) clime and everyone with useless input." 

  The girls wound their way through debris used as minefield training.

"Keep moving Spaceman."

  The guy snarled and grimaced, the burnt skin on his face like a taut drum.  "You're stupid." 

  "No you are." 

  "You're so stupid..." 

  "As I was saying before that thing fell out of the sky, was that, is that the Catholic religion is a good compromise as far as the divide between literal and interpretation on the Bible." 

  "What was the reading?" 

  The beep-beep of a tow truck to gather the slightly crashed spacey, human transport, ball almost drowned out the man.  People repeated the verses of Scripture that were the manna of the moment.  (i)Romans 13:11-14 and on into Chapter 14(i). 

  "Very civil of you.  Can we go now? There's tornados!" 

"What is that smell?"

  A woman kept on talking, "He calls it tough love." 

  "My God." 

  "That's simply awful." 

  "Did they not clean up the kitchen?" 

  Another woman with a clothespin on her nose and dishwashing gloves scoured a cabinet.  

  A worldclass traveling couple stood in the little entryway.  That woman made a (i)that's stiff(i) face and the man said low and flat, "Elk musk".

 

"Let's put the super back in superficial!"

  "WHAT?!? ARE YOU NUTS?" 

  "Why are you yelling?" 

  "Spuds' band.  It's so (i)loud(i)." 

  "LOOK, YOU'RE A CUPCAKE MOM, NOT A HYPOCRITE OR A FAKE." 

  The band wound arms and instruments up into achieving fifth gear and suddenly stopped.  (i)OR A FAKE(i) hung in the air just as awkward as everything in flux. 

  "HEY! ARE YOU LOOKING AT MY WIFE?!?" 

  "I'M A GIRL JERK!" 

  People looked into their Solo cups. 

  "Where'd everybody go?" 

  "Girl shouldn't have a crew cut my ass." 

  "Keg ran out.  People went for six packs etcetera." 

  "Wait.  There's something wrong here." 

  "What do you mean Kay? Beer's gone, politicians are gone, and us girls are on our own.  Pretty typical." 

  "Yeah, but she said we're not fake." 

  One woman fluffed some curls near her ear.  "Ouch," said the short-haired girl. 

  "It's like there's no balance these days.  People are hot and cold all in like two minutes." 

  "Cocaine brain.  That's what a shrink I know calls it." 

  "And they don't want any input.  Leaves us out in the cold." 

  "I really don't know where all of this is going." 

  "That's why I'm bucking the system.  I'm going to vote for 'W'." 

  "Really?" 

  "He's actually the most sensible of all them all right now.  Stands up for his values and family, but doesn't ignore the cold hard truth that most of the world doesn't give two hoots about little young America." 

  "Sounding awfully patriotic." 

  "For what it's worth, (i)I am a patriot(i)." 

  "You don't always seem that way." 

  "Honey, a girl's got to get good at going with the flow and gettin' out of dodge." 

"Put it back in the box. And close the lid."

  The person did.  "Very cool logo, just saying." 

  "SCUD!" 

  It didn't explode but left quite an indent on a vehicle.  Like a smashing tree.  Only a tree isn't supposed to damage anything.  It's just supposed to be a tree. 

  Monies tossed into a pile on the floor of a room stripped of furniture.  "Next one'll blow." 

  "How did we get so callous people?" 

  "Everyone's in work mode." 

  "Is the gambling work?" 

  "I suppose it's a diversion." 

  "Watch out that window." 

  Closer and closer. 

  "Don't they know we're in here?" 

  "Probably why they are aiming here." 

  "Shouldn't we leave?" 

  "And go where?" 

"We're strongly advising you

  not to get off the plane at this time." Gen Xers told the waiting-in-the-wings Baby Boomers.  

  One woman gathered her strength, absorbed the weight of the moment as read through the feeling aboard the plane, and asked (i)why?(i) 

  The Gen Xers sat quiet at first. 

  Then one soldier asked another, "Why were they heiling you as Hitler?" 

  The man gathered his strength, considered the levers of flow hanging in the balance, and answered, "I did some cultural work (i)back home(i) in a different discipline." 

  "Are you a hater?" A voice asked as a hand reached up and shut off the seat light. 

  Another hand reached up and turned on a seat light.  "Did you switch political party this last time?" 

  "Who you?" Someone asked. 

  A throat clearing.  And someone saying, "I know I did.  Only because I didn't want to see any more homosexuals killed in the streets of America.  That's the only reason." 

  A hand reached up and shut off a seat light. 

  In the dark a voice said, "I'm sorry you saw that." 

"He's a hurter, not a hater." The quiet woman said

  of her brother.  "We're Belgium, not (i)this(i)." Eyes indicated the wall of people protecting people.  "We're not supposed to tell you we're Americans.  Let that one through," an outraged Jewish American woman told some Jewish men in uniform.  Shouts of (i)Heil Hitler(i) rattled the fragility of the air.  Feet stomping forward. 

  "Get UP!  GET UP!" 

"We want our party back! Fuch why won't

  this door open?" 

  "Down here!" 

  "Hold your fire." 

  The sizzling sound persisted. 

  "It's all that until," the man's face blanched.  "He's passing out." 

  "It's (i)not(i) all the Nazi Party, so get out there and dance, (i)live life(i)." 

  "But it's (i)authoritarian(i)?" 

  "Very much so, especially in this hemisphere." 

  "Better us in charge than them," a card waving American Republican indicated more dead people dressed in military clothes awaiting the Mysterious Death Train. 

"Why would anyone wear that shirt?"

  "It's traditional." 

  "Did you join their side?" 

  "(i)He said(i) it's traditional." 

  "It's ridiculous." Said the man in a business suit. 

  "Is associating a soldier with a National flag ridiculous?" 

  Arms chained to a briefcase.  Briefcase opened.  Monies doled out.  The paper "deal" on the table beside.  Budget-minders logging every bill. 

  "Did it come from Russia?" 

  "It came from the U.S." 

  Silence. 

  "But is it Petro dollars?" 

  Silence. 

  "The American journalists are free to go." 

  "But there's no plane." 

  "Poland is just up that way." 

  One man stared at the ruins of a school for a long time before picking up a bag of video equipment and heading back towards "the war".