Sunday, July 15, 2012

Still In Saigon

enemy from friend, can you tell?
or does your ability reside
in the innocence of being told?
the exoneration of fools

on a hot summer day
when the midwest spit out time
as cheaply as the katydid's song
we became Mickey Mantle

thump thump thump
the sound of boredom
bouncing as a ball off
the sun baked roof top

fall kisses in the back of an old chevy
at midnight while the hum of a distant
highway drifted far beyond the weeds
obliterating the tracks to where we've been
and where we're going
thump thump thump

and we grew without notice
as the future in perfect subtlety
raced along the yet to be written history
under the cover of lost twilight

and just like that,
all the schemes and dreams
and the silent aspirations of our youth
took a bus that never comes back

and here, there is lurking danger
in the boredom and blood in the echo
of the thump thump thump
and ever tracks to follow beyond
the tracks that can't be hidden

and how we got from there to here
is the secret never spoken of
for sadness dwells behind the door
we never should have opened
but couldn't ignore

history is written on the parchment of souls
of wars that can't be justified
and the thump thump thump
is the echo of our heart in retreat

flags risen over those taken down
battlefields grown cold and quiet
if rescue came to take me home
too much of me it left behind
too much of me, is still in Saigon