At Neil's Shop
Sheets of dust cover the room from ceiling to floor.Blocks of wood lie scattered among huge, whirring machines.
"I'm here for my mandolin," I say.
"I've seen pictures of the Earth taken from space,"
he says, "It's humbling to see our world
with no borders, no death, no hate."
"It is," I say. "I have to get back to work."
"The Aztecs," says he, "could have defeated the Spaniards
if they had understood their intentions for conquest.
They ripped people's hearts out
with their bare hands."
"I've read the history," I say, shuffling my feet,
staring at my instrument.
"My ex-wife ripped my heart out
with her bare hands," he says."
I grab the mandolin uttering, "I'm sorry,
thank you for the nice work."
"I made a sword to draw bitter blood," he says.
"Goodbye," I say, as I shut the door behind me.