Send Him Back To War

He sits in a corner alone.

He studies the menu.

He sticks to his own.

Waiting for a smile from you.

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There's no-one at home.

They left long ago.

He learned too much.

Now there's nothing left to know.

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He doesn't want to cook.

He doesn't want to look.

He buries his heart and head,

In a puzzle or a book.

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He remembers the dream,

A cottage for two,

A white picket fence,

A couple of kids and you.

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It never existed,

Or he doesn't know where it went.

And he's not really sure,

How 60 years were spent.

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He has flashbacks,

Of Vietnam mud,

And different hues,

Of drying blood.

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Tyrannical employers,

Waft through his memories.

He sees images of himself on broken knees,

Giving thanks for smelly cheese.

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"Thank You Lord,

For what we are to receive,

For being a merciful God,

In Whom to believe."

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He doesn't give a clue.

But something says he's shattered.

As he contemplates,

That nothing really mattered.

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With a hug and a kiss,

All is dismissed.

The casualness of it all,

Makes him shake his fist.

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There was Santa Claus,

There was a tooth fairy.

Then there were rockets,

Firefights, and dysentery.

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He thought he was for good,

A benevolent God,

Brotherhood,

For all the things that great men stood.

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Now it's just another,

Table for one.

And there will not be,

Another optimistic sun.

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There's not a thing in the world,

He can say is his.

He wouldn't have a clue,

As to where it is.

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He studies the menu,

With his open book,

With his heart on the floor,

And a puzzled look.

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The waitress is here,

Grinning ear to ear.

"Can I take,

Your order dear?"

.

I'll have a glass of wine,

To further settle my mind,

A couple of beers,

To settle my fears.

.

Some of mom's apple pie,

May bring a tear to my eye,

And make me sad,

As I remember my loving dad.

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Bring a slice anyway.

Ala-mode.

You may as well make it,

Rocky Road.

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I'll have the beers in bottles,

With slices of lime,

As I think of my child,

I knew once upon a time.

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It was an evening well spent.

The waitress's smile was heaven sent.

But he knows what ain't broken,

Is sorely, badly bent.

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The world paints him in another corner.

He doesn't make a bed to "lie" in.

He dreams he stands for something,

But he needs a foxhole to die in.

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Pat him on the back.

Put a bumper sticker on your car.

Tell the Veteran you love him.

Then send his ass back out to war!

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~Micky Dee~

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