Harriet Zinnes
			Tees Triangle Turmoil Transgression Oh, the T's in one's life! Do not tarry. Turn toward the torrents of rain while you, with head uncovered, wipe the tears from your lips and touch the raindrops on your cheeks. Time flies even as the rain covers the tower, and even as the door closes on the town's only church. Now the streets are vacant. The tourists have left, and the townspeople have turned to their televisions to hear why the turrets have fallen and why the President's cheek is scarred. Time, time will tell why the Treasury drawers become thinner and thinner. Oh, oh, the bombs are falling. Torture is swelling the caves. I turn weeping to the telephone. There is no sound. Suddenly I hear a click and six clanging tones: "Your phone is out of order," snarls a taunting voice. A terrible century is born.