The first thing I heard was a grandmother killed picking okra in her fields, her grandson full of shrapnel, his father, the school teacher pleading on Capitol Hill to the Nobel Peace Prize president’s men about them lethal hawks hovering near by his schoolyard. I heard the daily jackhammer pound the length of the median strip . . . I put on Godspeed You! Black Emperor. Bad mistake. Bagpipes morphing into drone guitars, ominous sky, kinks in the chevron flight. The world might just implode today. At least it feels like it should.
