I knew his outline, a man running through a field. I knew him in the watercolored countries, the persistence of the evergreen, the pageantry of snow. And now I know his face. Santa Monica Downtown looks a bit like Santa Monica, except British tanks stall the street ways. Holiday shoppers mill the paths through evening haze.
Soldiers wearing navy berets pace the streets like dance chaperones.
Guns aimed at the moon. Shoppers skirt wide the tanks and soldiers. Moonlight and lamplight converge. Murmurs of a peace possibility.