His shoes are dusted over with years of street living.

His hands are cracked from white-knuckled unforgiving.

This old soldier never came home.

He sucks the air out of his lungs by the minute

He piles trauma and dog shit on the floor and sits in it

This old soldier never came home.

He holds his tongue in his fist like a grenade

He pulls the pin with a sigh and explodes again

This old soldier never came home.

He counts his days like sheep before bed, eyes wide open, war in his head.

How did I get here when so many are dead?

This old soldier never came home.

---

For Larry 3/26/1949-3/27/2022