For the Boys To Men of Mozambique

FOR THE BOYS TO MEN OF MOZAMBIQUE (APROPOS CONDOMS FOR PEACE) PRESCRIPT: The tinted thin twisted twine hued with the colors of sunshine wraps around the cold blown latex creating full balls to kick away the pain. Happiness is a child’s game chasing away the pangs of hunger lingering in the abdominal gas chambers. Forced smiles starve off reality. The weavers weave. Hope hangs in woven webs of nightmares blowing in the dusty winds of barren fields of dreams. PRELUDE: The mirage of food fades; the skies crack; parachuting condoms blanket the parched fields: POSTSCRIPT: Today the world cup overflows; Perpetual balls of blue fly everywhere; But food is disqualified and is denied entrance. New balls. Same old game. Wars and pain remain. O Lord my God! Is there no shame!