Nobody really sees
anything coming. The moment
just happens. We live by it.

            One is taught to become the machine;
to hear the stirring in the sand or the deafening ring
of the IED.
What it is to be human was the perspiration on
my forehead that has been wiped away. My skin is a
glimmering metal. I fly through the wickedly blue sky.
            Shot by someone I don't know for reasons
                                       I don't know.
We live by
                a way to die. The moment happens and we
forget. That's what we're good at.