The louder the better it always seemed. No matter.
He always fell asleep before John Wayne won the war
or the sad dog whimpered at the cavalryman’s fate.
Who knew what he knew?
He never said anything except to mention malaria
and those old photos we found of native women in grass skirts.
But that was such a small part of the things he carried inside.
It wasn’t jolly, or fun.
It wasn’t something you could say.
The best you could do was build something new.
And when you’ve exhausted your body as much as your soul
turn on an old war movie and sleep through this TV play
as you dream of the past war and remember noises
no orchestra could drown.
- By Anthony Buccino
from SIXTEEN INCHES ON CENTER
Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved.