We Lived Happily During the War by Ilya Kaminsky (2013)

I get so angry at Jeff Bezos with his billions of dollars. What on Earth could he possibly spend billions of dollars on?

And then I think about the man in Philadelphia, whom I sat outside with while my boyfriend-at-the-time went in to get him a hot chocolate. When I asked this man what he missed most while living on the street, his answer surprised me.

Socks.

Winters in Philly are brutal, and nights on the street left him shivering and yearning for nothing more than a warm pair of dry socks.

My sock drawer is full. I’ve got ironic socks, workout socks, black socks, trouser socks, Christmas socks, knee high socks, slipper socks, and somewhere in there just a pair of regular white socks. I wonder, if he knew, would he ask himself, “What on Earth could she possibly do with so many socks?”

And I’ll think on it, but (forgive me)
only for a minute.

Short Stuff:

• Kaminsky’s family was granted political asylum and moved to the U.S. when he was a teenager. He began writing poetry in English before he was fluent.
• He’s only two years older than I am, but has done a lot more with his life, including founding Poets for Peace, which raises money for relief efforts through poetry readings.

Topics

complicity; hypocrisy; America: war

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We Lived Happily During the War

And when they bombed other people’s houses, we

protested
but not enough, we opposed them but not

enough. I was
in my bed, around my bed America

was falling: invisible house by invisible house by invisible house.

I took a chair outside and watched the sun.

In the sixth month
of a disastrous reign in the house of money

in the street of money in the city of money in the country of money,
our great country of money, we (forgive us)

lived happily during the war.

–Ilya Kaminsky