“1986

Evelyn Dear,

 

Warmest greetings from a dear Friend,

—Leah”

 

Evelyn Dear, warmest greetings from a dear friend, “1986”

somewhere 1986, somewhere it had to be

it had to be 1986 (I’m reading Transparent Things, Evelyn Dear

Vladimir Nabokov writes the pitiless erasure of time very well,

Evelyn, have you read him?) Dear 1986 Marina was six and Ume one

I was teaching in my first year, trying to learn to teach

trying to find something to help the kids get thru

(the CIA-special crack wars were cranking up full blast Evelyn Dear,

they’d leave some 10,000 dead in L. A. in two short decades, unremarked by so-called national leaders,

Evelyn Dear) after I left East L.A. for college, firefighting throughout college years in Wyoming and Colorado,

Craig Colorado’s rolling country, canyons and jutting mountains southeast of elk and aspen in Browns Park,

the Green River winding and roaring through the Gates of Lodore in Dinosaur National Monument,

I returned to the hometown and put my shoulder to it in the neighborhood, you know? In the old neighborhood,

maybe somewhere in East L.A. it’s 1986 oh Evelyn Dear, Leah says so, she sends you Warmest greetings, what was she thinking?

me too, in the midst of fucking Reaganite America, Evelyn Dear, he was turning America into the shithouse of dead ends, jails and wars it is these days for most kids,

so we were organizing in East L.A., talking in meetings, arguing in meetings, phonecalling lists of phonecalls, carrying an agenda full of notes, organizing anti-war protests against the wars the U.S. was fomenting and arming in Central America (genocide of Mayans happening

again, as if reiterating the Spanish Conquest with Israeli machineguns and U.S. helicopters) we demonstrated for daycare centers and against war,

we demonstrated for bilingual education and against war—we got a few more daycare centers and lots more wars.

If it was 1986 again should we have done different, Evelyn Dear? Is it still 1986 somewhere, what do you say?

What else could we do and what are you doing now, Evelyn Dear? Monday we fly to NYC, to attend the college graduation of Citlali,

who wasn’t even born in 1986, never knew the weird euphoria and terror of the 1960s, never had a whim or flash of the burnt out whimsy and grim hope of the 1970s,

never saw a generation turning first to drugs and rock and roll then to evangelical Christianity, never saw the rest studying meetings and politics and things, Buddhism and

back to the land (those communes all abandoned now, except?)— Only knows the economic “restructuring” (income redistribution to the rich) of Reagonomics going full steam through the 90s, Evelyn Dear

like America was rebooted without the New Deal, without the War on Poverty, instead we got the War on Drugs, the War on Terror, the War on the Poor

Grenada, Nicaragua, Guatemala, Colombia, Honduras, El Salvador, Lebanon, Panama, Bosnia, Serbia, Palestine, Somalia, Iraq, Afghanistan

can you imagine, Evelyn Dear? I bet you can, I bet you can, if I can imagine your mind Evelyn Dear, it’s like a warm summer night in your mind,

I look up in your mind, Evelyn Dear, you got the Milky Way pouring through the whisper of leaves like Wyoming in the warm wind blowing a summer night

Under the stars twinkling in your infinite thought, I so look up to you, your dear Friend

 

by Meredith Moffett

by Meredith Moffett

 

 

 

 

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