I'm rowing the TV remote, like a life raft,
Away from a maelstrom.  I'm failing.
I cannot find peace or snippets of good-
Natured dialogue.  Everyone's fighting,
Instead.  In America, no one negotiates.
They'd rather shoot or pummel each other
Until we see blood.  I've heard tales
Of the Aztecs excising the hearts of their
Captives on altars in Tenochtitlan,
And I wonder, is something wrong with
This continent?  Death and destruction,
And everyday cruelty, whirling, whispering,
“You need a pistol.”  I row, but I'm being
Sucked in.