by Bonnie Howard


Eager gun shots rang nightly.

Valiant waist-coated men

Impatiently surveyed the ever-dark

Boston skyline, in waiting for an attack.


Fast paced politicians rode with plotting

Rebels on secret operations at all hours,

Blazing by, holding tight to worn brown tricorns.

Every night, a midnight ride or a violent tea party:


Now, ridiculously garbed actors and pissed off actresses

Wait impatiently for a break from the grimy ancient house-

Where people fucking planned the revolution of America-

So they can smoke a cigarette.


Never a dull moment.  The cutting edge of

Freedom, the city was pioneering.  White wigged women

Sewed sturdy suits, soon to be bathed in blood-

But they tried not to think of that.  It was all


Heroes and Strength and Honor and Courage and



Now it's all

Chowder and Sox and Flash Photos and Cheers.


Fish markets and street performers line the streets,

Interrupted by the red bricks leading you to the

Graveyard of some incredibly important dead man,

Where loud Asian tourists are smiling and laughing

As they take pictures of their kids with a "pretty gravestone."