While I was sleeping...

While I was sleeping, ten dozen bombs bellowed, five hundred more died – including the four hundred most people won’t count – a water pipe broke, some power went out, some soldiers were shot at, some soldiers ate chow; a mouse’s dead carcass proliferates odor throughout my small office; the mayor has moved. Some soldiers went home, some visit, some stay; the server goes down; throw darts at the network manager’s face. My flowers have died now, two weeks and still counting; I salvaged a bookshelf to give myself space. The August sun hot, the wind even hotter, but those of us “seasoned” say ‘It’s getting cool.’ My little man Omar is set on a wedding, but all I can think of is him back in school.