Winter 1996 • Vol. XVIII No. 1 PoetryJanuary 1, 1996 |

Three Years after the Four Days’ War

I'm met, hot off the plane, by suave Ferdinand who runs the vanguard fleet of cars for rent. Silver-thick mustachioed, neat as his goatee, luminous blue shirtjacked, spiffy, urbane: he could be president of the bank or majority whip in Parliament (a youthful seventyish), but he leases cars, trucks, mobile homes— and small efficiency kitchenettes to American students of the medical college. Their landlord, yes, but I soon learn he's surrogate father, guide,   much adored caretaker of his whole fraternal order of guests. Well met, soonest parted: I'm given over to wise counsel of son Terry, mild proprietary chum who mates me with car of my choice, then offers to shepherd my vehicle to insiders' safe-and-frugal seaview guest hostel. … Still in my first half hour of Grenada jet touchdown, I pop the big question to Terry. How did you and your family regard the invasion ASSAULT by our U.S. Marines? His reply   comes forthright, without pause. You won't find

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Laurence Lieberman's recent books include Flight from the Mother Stone (University of Arkansas Press, 2000), The Regatta in the Skies: Selected Long Poems (University of Georgia Press, 1999), Compass of the Dying (University of Arkansas Press, 1998) and Beyond the Muse of Memory: Essays on Contemporary American Poets (University of Missouri Press, 1995).

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