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Summer 1968

We'd watch the news on my portable Philco.
The jungle was black and white.  The bodies were black and white.
The whole house strained in its silence.  I was 1A.
One night my old man threw an alarm clock across my room.
He screamed something, but all I caught
was a cheap alarm clock, the size of a softball, ringing in the wallboard.
The screen flickered.  The jungle snowed gray, the bodies gray. 
The alarm clock, stuck in the wallboard, rang
for a minute or more.  Nobody touched it for days.