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Sunday, September 2, 2012

“HE LOOKS GOOD FOR A DEAD MAN,”


That’s what someone said at his Daddy’s funeral.
Every morning eggs and insulin.
Flashbulb memories,
Projections of past,
Stir a potion of the good ol’ days.
Today more than ever,
Newspaper separates us.
Article about WWII
Stories of coping,
Returning home no longer
Whole.
Tears rest on his hollow cheeks.
Sitting in his wheel chair
Eyes pierce ground outside window.
Growing impatient,
Waiting for his reward.

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