we're already at the movies

israeli flares light gaza
casting incandescent nudity
upon jumbled puzzle piece buildings.

helicopters and arabic murmurs
and the blowing of desert wind
are paused by a horn, a singing voice.

people there are bracing
and i brace with them
from behind the safety of the cosmic consciousness
as transmitted through wireless routers.

i brace with them,
because sides don't matter.
people matter.

but the best i can offer
is empathy
because america and i
would rather sit comfortable at home
in the light of television,
instead of rockets.

america and i
would rather hear through the news
see in a stream
the tragedies of second worlds.

america and i drain a beer,
and prayers give way again
to the stifling hum of silence;

later broken by the streak of a jet,
the crescendoing bursts of an airstrike,
and my exhalation of gratitude.