Poemul a apărut în The New York Review of Books, numărul din august, anul acesta.
One saw signs of it in certain families. The future was like an unfriendly
Standing ready to take their dinner order
From a menu they could not read.
To look without understanding was their lot
While a salesman in the TV store
Kept changing channels too quickly
For them to retain a single image.
The little flags freshly posted in a cemetery Said nothing as they hung listlessly
In the early summer breeze,
Not that anybody particularly noticed.
The sunset over the approaching city Was like a banquet in a madhouse
The inmates were happily setting on fire
Just as our train ducked into a tunnel.