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R. M. Englehardt |
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PARADISE LOST 20. The death toll is now up to twenty. A nice round figure I guess for the grim reaper to swallow. Charley doesn't even seem like a frightening name though or a name frightening enough to ravage Florida Let alone...fear. It sounds just like the name of a little kid who doesn't know what the hell he's doing or even what he's done. What Matters I'm not leaving. It's 7 p.m. in the middle of something far bigger than anyone can really grasp, the sun came up this morning and this day has lasted longer for me than all of them combined. This afternoon we boarded up the windows of the house, stopped to wait in the long lines and get some gas at the convenience store, bought water at the over crowded super- market and started to tell the children about why all the people around us were acting so strange and when we explained they still didn't fully understand. Two hours later and she still has to work at the hospital, she took the kids there because they told her that if she didn't come in then she would be fired and she can't afford to lose her job in paradise, but at least the shelter is there & the kids will be alright. Sometimes, I too wonder what really matters in this world that someone once said "was fucked" but now I think I understand all of these mysteries far better than myself. So I open up another beer, light up another cigarette And wait. [Poem written during "Hurricane Charley" Big Pine Key, FL 8-2004] |