Veteran’s Day

He returns home dreaming of brown hills filled with snipers

Dreaming of attack, retreat, and the buddies who have his back.

Dreaming of children armed with homemade explosives

all of them torn apart,

bleeding by his gun or others.

You wait at the airport, excited and happy

laughing about having a day in bed with your man

washing away the year of loneliness and terror

in semen and sweat.

Imagining that a smooth belly, firm breats

will be enough to exorcise the demons that haunt

imagining that he who left returns the same.

Dreaming of domesticity, kind words, and forever more

Pretending that the next time out will never come

Pretending that all will be fine.

The plane lands on the tarmac.

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