Dear Grandpa,
Nanna told me all about it.
The smell of ******
smoke and screams.
Bandoliers falling in all directions
with grenades honoring the occasion.
And the story of you,
And how you became confetti.
It’s been so many years,
the smell of barbecue
smoke and laughter reign now.
Kids run in all directions
And balloons join the celebration.
March 25th is a holiday now.
Nanna always brings a million memories.
She says she has to feed them,
because if she don’t
they’ll eat her up.
So she tells us stories about you.
I heard you even fought Victor Charlie.
Musta been one gnarly *******,
because I heard he won.
But don’t apologize.
When I was eight, my momma
told me I should be proud of you
because you put up a fight.
When Nanna was 25,
Two slender men in uniform
made their way onto the front porch,
knocked on the door,
And told her the same thing.
She sat on the porch for years
Waiting for you.
But the Rolling Stones don’t roll no more,
crickets don’t sing,
and Nanna’s rocking chair is retired.
Your grandson likes to play on it,
But we don’t want him to break it.
He's a curious little grunt,
so I tell him stories.
“Once, your great grandpa dodged a bullet.”
I tell him
“it went right past his ******* ear.”
He stops me and asks
The same question I asked my father.
But Pa, what's faster than a bullet?
Nothin'.
-a.m