I played jock jams and watched the kill cams
Without any doubt about dying
A waltzing Victorian casually avoiding IEDs
Bombs without brand names
My eyes grew sleek my fingers black
There was so much in my peripheral vision
That I hardly cared to look ahead
Bright dust motes in swarms of sun and color
My internal temperature dropped, my teeth grew
At night I slept in a hammock
With a cat at my feet
If there was a war like the looky-loos say
It never felt that way
Though I'm sure I did my share
My low chuckling at the sight of blood
Even from my child's knee
Assures me that I did my share.