did they tell you, son
that you'd be breathing in horse shit
and chewing on wet gunpowder
as the rations quit coming in
and your feet turned blue and ivory
in cheap boots made in China
which was where all those enemy bullets
originated?
but you had things figured.
you fucked the wrong prom queen
and you came home
to snort a bunch of black and white shit
up your nose
that came from the end of a pen
and not your lurid fantasy
that somehow it came across the border
from thousands of miles
from Venezula.
but you dressed in t-shirts and shorts
always talking about rape stains
and things we can't even think about
in this thin house
as you leaned over her bleeding vessel
and shouted "I am the king of Fuck."
did it hit home
when you lost your dead feet
that maybe
during VA rehabilitation
that you weren't cut out for this life after all?
we looked at your high school citizenship record
and decided there without arched eyebrows or teasing
just that
"this one doesn't deserve to live"
because that's the one thing you invoked
your whole damned and hideous life.
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