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