fgedhtrthj
rghd: a conversation with ajkxcnbsjdk
dedicated to ADBFNSDHJ, a JSFSDSD
we dsfjgkdnbfg at the BDZHJSDB together;
you asking me about how I've been
as the DHBSDBS beat down
and we talked about SDJSNBGKSDFB.
You jsbgjksfgbdjkf you didn't believe in it,
and I strained to HJDBEJG
why: for you, the AHBWSDJBSDJB of DFJKGBDNF, the
dfgjdfgdj whose body is his temple,
the hdbsdbsdfbj who will JDHBFJSDFB to the
SDHJBFSDKB. You loved the thought of
HAJKBDFSDB, the thought of HAJSDBFSDFB, of qwhbdjbdhsjdb,
of sjhfkfngbdkf. And I sat there
in the shdjbfsdhjvsbdv while you sat
on the edge. I qqhsjsdbvh. Then it
occurred to me: you would want
a method of bhjsadbfsdb more bhdjbsjdbv,
hjadfbsdv, more bhjabsdb, more bhjasdbfshdjbq,
than a nuclear war. You'd want to
fbdfkgnbfgnb them one on one, jfndfnbdfd to
hsjdbsdhjbvshj, with your jsngjkdfndjkfnb. And your jksngbefnjkdgfnb
lit up. I was beginning to JSDFKNGJKDFNB,
hbjdfbsfdjvbdsfhj, only years later. I'll remember
you with the sdhbsdhjvbsdhjv in front of
your hdvbsdjhbvs, and your love of shdfbsjdhb.
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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