Soap

Even as a child I knew it and my parents

couldn’t shield me from Sharon Tate and the Olympic
Games massacre, the hijackings, the war in Lebanon
not to mention the nuclear bomb and the bodies from Vietnam
coming off the planes in coffins, some of them hobbling off
on crutches and one leg. With a magnifying glass I pored over
Kennedy’s face thinking there must be some omen
I made a study of Hitler’s hands but even his fingernails
looked like anyone else’s, he trimmed them now and then
and washed with a bar of soap like I did, maybe even
my special way of spinning it around and around in my hands.
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