Peace

These students chanting in the crowded plaza,
whose cell phones called them to the protest rally,
could sooner point to Kona, Cancun, or Bali,
than Chechnya, Afghanistan, or Gaza,
given a face-to-face with Rand McNally.
No matter. Dubya's poodle wears a leash
and Bush is burned in effigy. Hashish
and urine odors funk and flush the alley,
from which, red-eyed and visibly relieved,
streams of kids emerge with bursts of "Liar!"
and freshmen, late to join the undeceived,
submit unfinished papers to the fire.
For peace is hard to find, and yet one looks
between the chapter breaks in history books.

© Gregory Di Prinzio