Jack stepped over the line but
He died early. Not in years.
Combat fatigue.

He ran like a man possesed pidgeon toed
Helter skelter. Hounds nipping at his heals.
Look into his eyes as he rounds third.

Afraid to be afraid.
A ball and a bat spiked shoes flashing
In the October sun.

Jack Johnson whispered.
Satchel page dazzled.
" never look over your shoulder,something might be gaining on you" .

Jack be nimble.
Jack be quick.
Jack was walking point
How could you hear him. Scream from behind
Dead eyes.
You could not.

Articulate and tough.
The poison seeped through his pores
Like Agent Orange
Cannon fodder

                               Suicide mission.
                               A big man decision.
                                America's pastime
                                  Was overdue.