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A brief history

The old man with the foam pitchfork

is bellowing through a loudspeaker

about communism and slowly turning

red. He wants his country back. I imagine

him as the top-hatted houngan, offering

rum and a dark-skinned cigar,

sprinkling salt in the mouth

of my fourth-grade history book

to call back the zombie past

to do his bidding. Someone else

likes vanilla. Someone else is at fault

in every auto accident and voted

for the other guy. Someone else

is history's greatest villain. This

is the only battle that has ever mattered:

a child defeats the child-proof cap.

It explains the world better than guile

or even greed: the race to ruin

what we meant to save us. We beat

the drum and wade into the quagmire,

step by step, until the water is up

to our full bellies.