Sunday, January 22, 2012

A Sunday in Greenwich

Behind the red barn with its rooftop of snow
in the white home older than the revolution
a book of Aeschylus is pulled off the library shelves
to peruse perhaps while the owner is waiting
for an answer to his latest email.
Greece has only so many islands to give
they must offer him something more tangible
if they expect his small claim on their distressed debt
to not be litigated in a favorable court;
without rights at par and a generous recovery waterfall
he can paralyze the global bond market and they know it
or will learn it by afternoon's end.
As he waits, he takes breaks from his monitors
to cheer for his teams, who both make the super bowl
through the most fortunate bounces of the football.
He must make a call, the game will be fun to attend this year,
he resolves as he reads the happy report
how Newt won by running against the elites.
He takes his Xanax and Crestor
And reads briefs before his usual blissful sleep,
unaware that the Black Water Dragon
now emerges in the darkest of skies.

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