back at my desk

11:02 when
that intoxicated coma
rushed after me
with iron
punishment
my
stomach pleaded with
the ocean to
pull me back
into her arms,
giving me peace.
that final day
caustic
wind blew heavy
filling our sails
shoving salt air memories
forward. off we went
to damp cover
in
fallout shelters
before the murderous bombs
filled the skies
with their acid rain soaked screams.
bringing the
stench of sexual appetites
and
drying wrinkles
folded sloppy and
tired.
no sleeping
in deep
jungles where
death lurks callously
beneath the humid brush.
the pages slowly
winding down
as the veterans
return scarred
to the
fields and towns of youth
pitiful
gas lamps burn low down
decrepit streets
while the drunks
pull another nip at death
found in the pockets
of their grease caked clothes.
little devils
and sardonic smiles
in the small bottles of brown
and clear liquid
travel
clenched hard to your back,
all the way to
the golden cardboard
at the end of
a
notebook.

el Commandante
August 12th, 2005