The Third Night

Van Gogh
I got up and looked at myself in the mirror.

In those eyes there was the same guy who has lived in there for these many decades. I could still see that little sparkle and that little bit of impishness that never went away since I was five, and I talked Craig into hitting my brother with a broom when he walked abound the fence corner.

But today, it seemed like my skin was green maybe even livid.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I told Jeanelle.

“Do what?”

“Look at myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t think I can look at myself anymore”

“How will you shave?”

“I’ll shave in the shower.”

“How will you put in your contacts?”

“I don’t need them anymore, I don’t want to see anymore anyway.”

“Baby, you are depressed.”

“No, I’m not depressed, I’m despondent,” I said.

“We’ve got to go on.”

She’s right you know.

We’ve got to go on.

But I don’t see or know just how yet.

Two days before, the POTUS had made one of those really dumb speeches he always makes. He talked about Freedom, about spreading Democracy. He talked about National Security. He had that freaky dumb look washed all over his face and his eyes looked like a young deer that finds itself in the middle of the road just as you crest the hill going 80.

For the last several months the war talk was gaining more and more steam. Respectable news journalist would not question the neo-cons when they calmly talked about the need to be rational and to be realistic.

Only a notable few were truly doing their work as journalists.

The VPOTUS continued to chew his hateful words out of the right side of his mouth occasionally making a grunt that resembled an intelligible set of words. He mostly just made cowards of all who came into his Darth Vicious presence.

So the POTUS comes out and gives an ultimatum, much like he did with the President of Iraq. But this time, the person who he was giving his tough guy “do what I say” or “I will do this to you” threat was the President who had written him a letter trying to get him to be a Christian. This time it was the President who had asked that they debate in front of the world stage together so that they might find a way to avoid more violence.

This time it was with a Man and a Nation that did not believe that just because the POTUS was the President of the country that had won the last World War, that he was entitled to be the "de facto" emperor of the earth, or that he and his allies would be the "lay down winner" of the next one, should that horrible prospect prevail.

So the POTUS makes his threat and they don’t respond.

On the second night, He makes the threat again,

this time his eyes look beadier and there is sweat on this head.

On the third night, he appears in his oval office with all the flags and seals,

There are pictures of his wife and children behind him.

He sits erect and stares without empathy into the camera.

He then informs the nation that he has ordered a nuclear strike.

The bombs are hitting their targets as he speaks.

I hear the shriek of an innocent child and a mother's torment.

I hear the ground growling with calamitous Karma.

I hear the mountain cry.

And I see a crow fly into the Starry Night.

I ask myself, "What more could I have done?"

I stare into the mirror.

I slap myself to wake up.

But this time,

I am.


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