FIRST BOMBS ON BAGHDAD

"And in that bright October sun,
we knew our childhood days were done.
And I watched my friends go off to war:
what do they keep on fighting for?" - from "Leningrad" by Billy Joel

19 at Southern Oregon University,
I watched the propagandic drift
daily on T.V.
toward invading Iraq
(to fight Al Qaeda)
with a mixture of cynicism and amazement

I was not alone:
professors told terrible old new truths
to energetic youths,
who took turns canvassing the plaza
armed with signs and slogans

Thoughtful Ashland seemed an island
caught
in the rising sea of a new McCarthyism:
in those days, yankee dissent was rare enough
("9-11" "9-11" "9-11" was like a new deism)
that there seemed a palpable danger...
which by lawyers and baristas alike
was met with remarkable valor

When the first bombs fell:
we, as planned,
took to the streets in hundreds at least

Some of my friends(not wanting their faces taped)
wore bandanas out-law style;
many professors refused to take attendance
and I imagine(hearing our chants)
looked reproachefully
at their dwindled classes

But the police,
who just twenty miles away
might have tear-gassed us,
actually blocked traffic;
Those drivers caught in our march
often smiled and gave thumbs up

I remember an old hippie
throwing himself into our Vietnam era chant:
"1, 2, 3, 4 !!!WE DON'T WANT YOUR RACIST WAR!!!"

And so we reached the plaza,
the ancient center of town
(thronged and backed up for blocks)
and waited for mega-phoned orators
which, bizzarely enough,
simply didn't appear

Fired up, the crowd decided to turn around
which was not in the city's plan:
I went into Starbucks
and ordered an iced caramel machiatto
(there was no line)
and watched in slight disgust as students
virtually fought police for the streets:
I now better understand why

The perceived hero of the day
was a friend of mine named Cameron,
who simply wouldn't get out of the street
and so was eventually arrested:
this bravado was out of character for Cameron,
a popular art student and pot-head:
Sometime later,
when one of our circle
joined the Marines to be a sniper,
Cameron had forgotten his pacifist ideals
(no charges were ever pressed)

Years later,
lonely and half-dead in a psychiatric unit,
I received a phone call from one of my oldest friends
(a few years younger than me)
who told me he was joining the army
because he
"wanted to be a part of something bigger than" himself

Feeling a sense of duty
I asked if he'd signed the papers:
He had.
what was the use?
I went and got some coffee

"A Russian life was very sad:

such was life in Leningrad"