a clutch of people sat at the front of the bar around a long rectangular table

the window behind them was rain-speckled and tossed myriad rainbows and sparks from passing headlights

he was watching football 

he had turned his back to them

more than once their voices rose

they were drinking quite a bit

since the flatscreen he watched was muted caption-enclosed there was nothing between their sounds and him

one young man in particular began to carry on

he glanced over his shoulder at him

butch  tatted   probably shouldnt be wearing the spotty beard he grew

he didnt like his politics

then the young man dropped what he had unfortunately anticipated  not prescient  just alert  whose words overrode and shut up those he sat with

When youre in Iraq . . .

muzzle him he thought

no one at the table did

he didnt think When youre in Iraq came out of many mouths

he knew many who served

who enlisted or were drafted for Nam

they didnt

he had uncles who fought in the South Pacific Africa Europe

they didnt

gathering his wits he paid his tab and left

What happens in Iraq stays in Iraq

Yah?

1723,  Thursday,  8  12. 16