My jaws are locked
my dad’s unfrocked
but do I really care?
My mom’s a whore,
my daughter more
but am I really there?
My dog is dead
and though it’s said
he died as brave as man,
my only hope
with which to cope,
is leave this wretched land.
Hof, Germany. March 2, 1969.
I was finishing up a four-year stretch in the armpit of Germany.
Short-timer, maybe two weeks before a return to the United States after three years away.
I had left a boy and returned an older boy with a few killing techniques and an undying love for schnapps.
Had no idea what the future was, but it wasn’t in the Air Force.
I had a serious jizm backup and no time for sergeants.