Who should die and who should live?
I think a lot about our men arguing over who should die and who
should live, I think about how they worry about the sky dropping
fire and brimstone on them and all they love, I think about
how they end up sore and bleeding standing on corners,
I always give them a nod, a word or two, and they look at me
through swollen unforgiving eyes; what more can I do?
Will it matter who I vote for? Will the killing stop?
I'm recalling my own pops, who served both in the Navy and Army,
from l7 to 40, even though his heart is now cold stuck inside a box,
I think about my brother committed suicide when he got back from
Viet Nam, don't think he ever voted...
hear them scratching and moaning just outside my reach, probably
patrolling somewhere between the living and dead, weighed down
by these last indignities. Will it matter who I vote for? Will the killing
stop?
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