on the car ride home, being just an american
That line being so vital
The Lebanese line.
Border chaos and culture
Dotted queue, crooked but marked
A skeptic world-wanderer
Beset an unsettling meddling moor.
I asked what for, once,
When we were laughing.
Why draw lines—
You began with your people
Their thunder-clap of words
Their caravan-camel trade,
Their hand crushed clams
Their violet-robes on bending backs
Relaxed onto sofas, ennui in portraits
I asked for your reasoning
Your geography of men
Your hand drawn marches
Your pithy crusades
Your life sized crosses
Your crested shields of peace.
You said, the east is not the farthest
That a westerner can go.
You said, the lines are but a compromise
For all the ache I know.
—ECW