Posted in Almost Dorothy, Culture Clash, Politics

Heart Attack: KONY vs ASSAD

Hafez al-Assad. Taken sometime before April 1987. | Sexy and he knows it.

Somewhere between the left ventricle and the right ventricle, the heart beats for an assassin and a Noble Pizza Prize Winner. Between YouTube and Facebook, the heart beats for updates and check-ins and friend requests. Somewhere between KONY (island) and ASSad, the heart beats as plastic ponies go round and round a loop. Between the beat and loop, the heart sleeps somewhere between hope and matzoh ball soup. Between what is and what will be more or less. Of the same. Between less and more, the heart beats aware of rifle fire and Lucky Charms. On Sundays and everyday the sun shines in Syria and Syracuse and Syrup. Somewhere between Syria and Uganda, the heart beats under the weather. Unaware of dictators and ducks. Unaware of politics and public policy, the heart beats like a bunny’s heart beats as the wolf snaps the bunny’s neck. Energized, the wolf’s heart beats for the transactional state of Schrödinger’s bunny and Schrödinger’s anti-wolf. The heart beats to beat death to death. Not for peace or prosperity. Not for smiles or chewing gum. Not for Africa or the Middle East or new Nikes. Between the forest and the trees, the heart beats in the treasure chest of a boy and a girl who are unaware of the heart beat of wolves and bunnies. Of Homs and black birds. Of the origin of space and plums. Of what it is like to be funny in pajamas while running from mortars and monkey mobs. Tanks and tat-tat-tat-tat. Tat. When the heart beats, love dies for more.


I'm not real, but I'm a writer.

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