The Veteran

May 24, 2011
His hands were never quite as steady since he got home
they rest
on the fraying arms of a green recliner
His bony, scarred legs are outstretched
spilt cigarette ash piles taller on the floor
like drip castles at the beach
and crumbs lay fallen around the veteran's lap
like a hundred corpses
There are movies in his head
the face that was no longer
and red
Rivers of red
the kids walk in smiling and
He realizes that everything is permanent.

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