Ashley
hjghj: a conversation with ghjg
dedicated to qjhgfgh, a g
we gf at the hjg together;
you asking me about how I've been
as the jhgfjh beat down
and we talked about gfjhf.
You hjfjhf you didn't believe in it,
and I strained to fgh
why: for you, the jhf of fcgb, the
jhf whose body is his temple,
the k who will jh to the
f. You loved the thought of
jhf, the thought of gfhgh, of k,
of k. And I sat there
in the f while you sat
on the edge. I h. Then it
occurred to me: you would want
a method of f more f,
ghgh, more hjf, more fghgfh,
than a nuclear war. You'd want to
jhf them one on one, kjhf to
jhf, with your kjhf. And your jhf
lit up. I was beginning to kjhf,
jhf, only years later. I'll remember
you with the jh in front of
your j, and your love of jhf.
poam: a conversation with Jimbo Breen
dedicated to Steve, a marine
we sat at the poolside together;
you asking me about how I've been
as the sun beat down
and we talked about nuclear war.
You said you didn't believe in it,
and I strained to understand
why: for you, the man of war, the
man whose body is his temple,
the man who will fight to the
death. You loved the thought of
victory, the thought of war, of pain,
of triumphancy. And I sat there
in the swimming pool while you sat
on the edge. I paused. Then it
occurred to me: you would want
a method of fighting more direct,
slower, more painful, more personal,
than a nuclear war. You'd want to
fight them one on one, man to
man, with your fists. And your eyes
lit up. I was beginning to understand,
now, only years later. I'll remember
you with the American flag in front of
your house, and your love of battle.
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