bright as weary be.


behind the iron gates, deep in the tunnels beneath the monument is a box office tricked out as a civil war shanty.  here I sit under canvas and log watching the tourists pass by.  Destiny opens her laptop and shows me episodes of Dr Who.  from a forgotten pouch in her backpack she recovers four banana Laffy Taffys.  i peel back & lick timidly. 

i remember the needles and wonder why it has been so long... then spend my fidgety energy decorating a glider toy hippie style:

upstairs beneath the vacant gazes of armless back-alley mannequins & laureled military figures in bronze, Marissa & Marissa peddle souvenirs and civil war kitsch: coon skin caps and kepis in need of poofing. 

and a transient old man snoozes.