Squish, Squish

dusty dirt roads
huge army on the march
looking to kill.

up the hill
through the city
mines line each bump,
each device ready.

driver steady,
his emotions cooled,
but crowds of kids
kick soccer balls in streets
just over hill’s crest.

no time to stop, no rest
in war; the Humvee clatters,
trying to avoid
Iraqi kids, wearing only shorts
and smiles.

it’ll take knots
of ocean cruises,
miles of Ozark trips before
the sergeant forgets.

bets are off in war,
the splintered, the bloodied,
the kids of war
splattered,
the humvee’s grill festooned
with guts.

and little, smiling kids squish,
little bodies once full of life
and soccer scores,
crowding the dusty streets,
blocking in their innocence
a war they cannot divert.