November 11, 2008
Sitting on main street
booze on my breath
my stomach growling
you walk right by.
I don’t blame you
I’m a mess
a shell of my former self.
The uniform and pride
long gone
the tattoos fading
like my only jeans.
Home of the brave?
Hardly.
My home is an old tent
on the edge of the corn field
near the river bank.
When I bike to town each day
I don’t want your money
I don’t want your pity
but I would like a friend.
I walk Main Street most days
and look at the people.
I gave a lot for them,
rather, it was taken from me
in their name.
They don’t know it.
I gave my youth
my dreams
my family
my future
my home.
I gave my brothers
and my sanity.
some taken by strangers in a strange land,
some taken by the bottle
all taken by Uncle Sam,
The dreams from my youth
are now nightmares from my past.
If I had gotten that deferment
there’s no telling where I’d be
who I’d be.
Could I have been a family man?
A business man?
A proud man walking down Main Street
my head held high
handing dollars out
to folks like me?
Probably.
I could have been anyone
but here I am,
the crushed pack of American Spirits
that I just emptied
sits on the sidewalk next to me
a crushed American spirit myself.
Get a job, they say.
Great advice
but I would if I could.
I have a tough time
dealing with myself most days
let alone anyone else.
I have good days
and bad
but I couldn’t hold a job
if I wanted to
which I’ve tried
many times
and I’ll be goddamned
if I give any more taxes
to a government
that betrays all of us.
In a different time
in a different place
I wouldn’t need your spare change
to buy cheap booze.
Go to all the parades
and wave all the flags you want
blindly support unjust war
all I ask
is that you don’t judge me.
If you haven’t walked a mile
in my worn out boots
don’t look down on me.
In a different time
in a different place
I could have been your son.
In a different time
in a different place
in a different war…
he could have been me.
