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 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
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."