I would bring my students
to the sculptures where you
could see the bullet holes
I would have nothing to say
in 2003 as the thief executive
lied us into another war
except to hope that it
never happened again
that somehow the past
could be relegated to history
that the spots where students
lay dying might no longer
be prime parking places
and instead set aside
a testament to four names
a shock stricken face
rising out of the photograph
helpless at the lifeless
body of carbon and memories
prone on the pavement
calling out mute to us
over half a century ago
knowing this instant
would be repeated perhaps
with less fanfare as the decades
came strolling torrentially by
and we greeted each other with
May the fourth be with you
and sang an old man’s song—
should have been done long ago
we’re finally on our own
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