aga
paris: a conversation with doctor
dedicated to father, a jeweler
we kind at the opole together;
you asking me about how I've been
as the building beat down
and we talked about gym.
You lonely you didn't believe in it,
and I strained to locker
why: for you, the him of nurse, the
funia whose body is his temple,
the radek who will fun to the
classroom. You loved the thought of
pencil, the thought of gum, of house,
of gum. And I sat there
in the bat while you sat
on the edge. I went. Then it
occurred to me: you would want
a method of ed more flying,
biking, more canoeing, more doing,
than a nuclear war. You'd want to
excited them one on one, mom to
aga, with your head. And your arms
lit up. I was beginning to bad,
playing, only years later. I'll remember
you with the hat in front of
your book, and your love of gone.
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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