Conversations Aborted

Conversations Aborted

We had sweet times, you and I.
Scintillating, I think we called it.
We sparred, honed, showed each other up.
Sarcasm dripped, stupid remarks cracked us up.
We could still be persuaded; we had nothing to lose.

I can no longer have conversations with you.
I write what I think, and you laugh and scorn.
It’s not that I wouldn’t like to talk,
But my vocabulary has become limited.
Every word I can think of to use now insults and angers you.
I can’t talk about the war. When I say “President,” you go off.
When I say soldier, arms, fight or force,
You spit the words back in my face.
My old familiar favorites like freedom and defend
Incite you to ranting and raving.

I can’t talk about killing babies.
You throw a mother’s power over her own body at me.
When I call God our Father, you revile me for not saying Mother.
And if I vaunt human life, you castigate me for devaluing animal life.
You say my holidays only celebrate bigotry,
My patriot heroes are former slaveholders, chauvinist pigs.
Manifest destiny was a mandate to rape Native lands,
And red, white and blue mean killing of innocents,
Racial supremacy and imperialistic designs.

Funny, isn’t it?
We were at each other’s throats, then slapped each other’s backs.
In the days when we had an irreverent respect.
In the days when we could talk…
In the days before we had power in our words.
We had freedom then, you and I.
Collision of ideas…freedom to be ourselves…and now…
We have the freedom to destroy ourselves.

Answer one more question, my old friend.
Did you think it would all end this way?
Because, this really is the end.
Did I win? Or, did you?