Dear Hoa, Thank you for reading so. Godzilla was defeated last night, tangled in the bridge’s cables, an antiphony of lizard. Dimitri was rooting for the lizards, giant lizards, superegos to the ones he chases with Tristan, catches in our backyard. Small lizards in our backyard. Big lizards on TV, and Dimitri rooted with all his four-year-old chutzpah for them against the city of New York. It looked so good for the lizards at first, so bad for the city of New York. And then, as often happens in films and sometimes in this world, a peripeteia, or reversal of fortune, and the lizards were blasted into charred lizard bits or rocketed into submission while swaying on a bridge. Dimitri was crushed, wept like the world, dead. That was a long digression just to tell you thank you for reading so, so I can see properly the daily beauty of their hatchings and waste less time fighting them like a jet fighter so certain of its aim, rocketry and victory— inhumane. No room for the terribly big and uncivilized lizard of love.
Timothy Bradford Read Bio Author Discusses Poems
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