A Knock On The Window, A Flood In The Sink
I remember when the Romans salted Carthage and burned her back into the desert. The sea became Roman again and the world became united. “Send me to Persia,” I said, “I want to negotiate for the eagles back.” The lesser kings were quick to curry favor from the great Augustus. I was lucky to know him. He thought I was a genius but I was only good-looking. I have never known a better man. He disappeared the bad Romans and good Romans had their way with the prettiest Syrian slaves. Filthy city plebiscite; the countryside is full of plunder. By leveraging loans and manipulating the treasury, an army was raised, and a civilization was saved. New gods ascended to Heaven and post-modernists wrote about their feelings.
Two thousand years later I woke up in the back of a minivan passing underneath the leaf-laden branches of oak trees in a row along the driveway. The house was built in 1920 as a milk farm and we kept livestock in the barn for many years. “Don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me, in the snow now, what is that smell, no, don’t do that, please don’t hurt me…”