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April 4, 2007
Take me back to dear old Gitmo (a poem)
Take me back to dear old Gitmo
Where once I had it better than I knew.
My head is full of lice.
A shower would be nice.
It’s freezing and there’s foggy, foggy dew.
I want to go back to warm and sunny Gitmo
There are bats living here inside my cave.
I miss three squares a day
And dining by the Bay.
About the menu here I cannot rave.
I miss the friendly pranks we played at Gitmo.
We don’t have any fun in this dark place.
There isn’t much to do.
Most reading is taboo.
We don’t throw cocktails in each other’s face.
I miss the medical facilities at Gitmo.
I’ve a sore tooth that’s aching through my head.
I’ll have to pull it out.
There’s no aspirin about.
I wish I had a nurse and nice warm bed.
Sometimes at night I dream I’m back in Gitmo.
I’m not bonding awfully well with my neighbors here.
Conversation as we sup
Is of blowing each up.
I find I’m making myself scarce in this atmosphere.
Oh, take me back to dear old Gitmo.
Where once I enjoyed soccer and TV.
Here, I’m really, really bored
Out of my itchy, scratchy gourd.
Give my regards to Gitmo By-The-Sea.
Mimi Evans Winship