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The Serbian Permanent Mission to the U.N. in New York is a Lonely Place

The Serbian Permanent Mission to the U.N. in New York is a lonely place.
There used to be days when the run would set
on the Police Guard in his almost primitive hut,
crouched inside his tall box,
for the imminent attackers on the Yugoslavian Permanent Mission to the U.N.
in New York.
And on the days they came,
the Officer was joined by throngs of friends, both in uniform and in the streets,
to make his little nook worth the months if not years of waiting.

The Serbs and the Croats, and the Yugos and the Kosovians and the Bosnians have changed that,
they took his little world.
And where once say the officer in his tall hut,
now sits a restless cook out for a smoke,
or a Visa seeker eagerly waiting for the doors to swing open.

Peace has its pluses and minuses,
but for the Kingdom of one man,
while he’s on his shift,
peace is nothing but another word for destruction.

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