There Isn’t Much In Common

It’s 8:30 a.m. here and 3:30 p.m. there
and there isn’t much in common. Bombs
are bursting there; people are running all
over the place, tossing rocks, wielding
knives. There’s a replay on the internet of
a “gotcha” interview with a Muslim and a
Jew, the young balding Muslim being set
up to look very bad in spite of his call for
dialogue, understanding, non-violence, while
the blond as all get out, beautifully coiffed,
female interviewer, hired to affirm the place
of superiority for descendants of Northern
European Christians and their allegiance to
their tribal god’s eternal covenant with one
group over against the other listened to the
beautifully coiffed Jewish woman who just
kept attacking verbally the Muslim man with
inflammatory language while appealing to
emotion about religious wars and rumors of
wars while the interviewer concluded that it
was a great debate with a wink and a nod and
the man looked out his window to see the sun
rise over the dune and the golden oaks and the
blazing burning bush peaking through the pines
and said, “We all could use one of those right
now,” as a few fuchsia leaves fluttered to the
ground mingling with the needles. Isaac Albaniz’
(who once quipped in My Youthful Indiscretions,
“I am a Roman, I am a Christian, I am a Jew,
I am a Moor!”) peaceful guitar chords played
in the distance.

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