Greetings Humans,

I thought I would send out one of my vaguely annual missives on the world when I realized I had actual "news"! And the news is: I am moving to Zürich, Switzerland. I don't have a firm date yet, however, I expect it to be in the next 2 months or so – definitely by June 1st. So, if I owe you money, cigarettes, a beer [or several], back massages, etc. – don't count on getting them; unless you can get to me before I go, or find yourself in Europe.

Some have asked me why I' moving and well, to be honest, I really do love America, but I've decided it's time to start seeing other countries. It seems through most of my life I've heard the phrase, "America: love it or leave it" and I finally decided that I can't make my country love me, so there's no point us being together anymore. Oh, don't get me wrong, I will miss terribly the majestic blue sky that hangs – almost precariously – over Montana, and the deep purple of the shadows across the Arizona mesas. I imagine I will long for the songs of spring nights in Connecticut and the sultry summer eves in New England. I'm not sure I will ever find another West Virginia with blue mountains languishing in the mist at sunrise, or the lonely hot air of west Texas in August that always presents some introspective view on the soul of humanity. My country and I have had a hell of a go 'round and there are a lot of things I will never forget. Sadly, the last 7 years will be burned into my memory as her infidelities raged out of control with that rapist in the white house and his clan on the hill. I'm not bitter about the assassination of the ideals that so many died for and so many lived for. These things happen when you take a decent place and turn it into the capital of an empire. She couldn't compete anymore with the whores in the harem that offered their resources up to her handlers on the hill for nothing but tacit acknowledgment. I will always love her and the values she etched into my soul as we watched the sunset together on a beach in northwestern Washington.

The final straw came the other night, as I stood looking out the bars of my cage onto the alley that separates me and Ecuador's chancery on 15th St. NW. Four jack booted thugs, with puffy midnight-black cargo military pants, guns strapped to their thighs, combat boots rising to their mid-calf, and a belt of tricks the likes of which even Bat-Man hadn't seen before resting comfortably below their bullet-proof vests, came strolling shoulder to shoulder up the alley, shaved heads shining brightly under the street lamps and raspy laughter rattling off the bricks of the apartments near by, when I finally understood what it meant to be "occupied". I watched them with a sense of dread – that at any moment, they could simply take you away to something I don't even want to know about. Even if they had candy, I would still be afraid. Then as they came to the top of the alley, where they turned left to get to the 'low-income housing', they somehow fell into a single file lock-step, each boot swinging in time with the ones before it.

Occupation – there is no other word for it. The ideas of my free America have been occupied by some maniac's disturbed vision of something they call freedom which oddly involves stress positions, water-boarding and a life to be lived in fear as assigned by "homeland security" via the colorized Threat Level indicator. The very occupation of a concept, an idea, is what is most frightening for me. When I hear that Freedom isn't free, I wonder why, since "free" is, after all, the base of Freedom. This occupation has trampled our love and I can't bear it any longer. What pains me most is her roll-over and have-at attitude; it's just disgusting the perversion she's gotten into. I won't have her tracking my phone-calls like a jealous lover; I won't have her monitoring my activities through CCTV and I won't have her telling me where I can and can not express my love for her. I had thought we were born for each other as I stood over the cliffs of Big Sur and listened to the pacific make love to her shores below me, but alas, she has turned her back on me.

I've decided she was too young to know better – like those other countries who went through their wild teen-age years colonizing and raping. They grew out of it and I hope she will, as well. I was perfectly happy with her inviting everyone, the poor, the wretched, the weak and the tired over to her golden shores, but I won't have her out carousing the developing world, screwing them all without even a thought of protection, buying bombs with her credit-cards and asking me to foot the bill and worse yet, now telling all those she invited over that it's time they leave. That is no lover I want. Instead, I will try the older, more mature countries – and who better than Switzerland, who has never gone out raping and pillaging, making the world into her private little empire. I wish America would have listened to me when I told her we didn't need an empire – that it is just a show of status by the nouveau riche. Well, I will be back, if she's still here. I hope she gets better, but I don't think it will happen in the next few years. We'll be in touch, though – that I'm sure of.

This entry was posted on Monday, April 9th, 2007 at 1:51 pm and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.