Yeah, I knew two of ‘em. Harry real well.
On his second tour. Found him lyin’ near
Baghdad on a dune. His skull blown to hell.
Put his SAW in his mouth, flicked the trigger.
That little Janie they shipped to Kabul?
Said she was bipolar. Aped ol’ Harry,
but in her bunk. Man, those blue eyes could pull
you to her like shortcake to strawberries.
‘member West, red curly hair? Tried to glug
booze and a bag of sleepin’ meds. Barfed ‘em
up. Scooter wrote me. His Guard unit dug
out of the Sunni Triangle for home.
Slit his wrists in his den. PTSD.
Naw, he pulled through. Shit. Should’ve let him bleed.
Roger Armbrust
August 16, 2007
