Billy Doyle

[saw]

I watched him drag his foot,
cross two lanes of traffic,
and with no fanfare place something
on the double yellow line.

I moved my truck to the side
of the highway, watched him
limp out of sight, his movement
sad as his dirty white trenchcoat.

I ducked cars and buses,
made my way to the center,
felt like a voyeur, picked up
a single, opened envelope.

The postmark still visible
through layers of greasy fingerprints,
read, June 12, 1943...
from a miss Katie Malloy.

Curiosity burned as I stood
in harm's way, time stopped,
traffic did not, began to tremble,
pulled out a sacred yellow paper

from its oft-handled jacket, "Dear Billy",
I could feel the heartbreak from those two
lonely words,"this war has taken its toll
on you soldiers in ways unimaginable

to Majors and Generals, do they know
of the casualties at home, away from
the battlefields, do they feel lives destroyed
with no weapons....from over the sea ?"

"I regret that I cannot honor my pledge,
but know that my love will always be deep.
Our relationship is no longer practical, but know
I am grateful for your contribution."

[Arcadia]

mmm...kashmir?

[mnaz]

utterly cold-- first take.

"thanks for your contribution?"....

seems as much a divorce from a millenia-old violent survival paradigm (o god, that word again) as much as a literal "Dear Billy" letter-- but then, that's my bias, how I tend to read a lot of things. also speaks to the "throwaway" attitude of many to those who return home damaged from state-blessed mass killing. but again, that's just me.

anyway... thought-provoking read...

[saw]

thanx Arcadia and mnaz.....yes mnaz, your observations are keen
and on the mark on all fronts....thanks for commenting