I'm nostalgic for those old wars;
The coloured Roses kind,
With heroes and villains named Henry or Joe.
Wars that inspired poems about fields and bunkers.
And songs. So many catchy lilts with
Tipperary, white cliffs and battleships.
And slogans that made children want to fight
Against Loose Lips and encrypted blips on collateral damages.
I'd proudly enlist to serve with John Wayne,
And **** all those nasty Tojos, Huns and Wops.
Just made you want to sing and dance away the millions dead.
And how the community chipped in with their war efforts.
They'd congeal around ***** of tinfoil and victory gardens,
Handing flowers to their marching sons on Main St.
Sending them off to a glorious campaign!
And the pulpit and towers exalted the efforts:
God is with us.
Shangdi yu women tong zai.
Dieu est avec nous.
Gott ist mit uns.
Bag s nami.
Dio e con noi.
(He is omnipresent)

There are no memorable songs
About Nagasaki.
We've seen some brain numbing pics
About Hiroshima.

We won't meet again near any cliffs.
One bomb,
And...
Phsssszzzzzt!
(Hard to sing that)

This stage, my heart,
Greets entering friends
As shades,
Not shadows,
Of their younger selves.
Despite disappointments
And promises,
Firsts and lasts,
Skins and sins,
Joys and sorrows
And bags and sags...
I still see YOU,
My first, longest and oldest.
The ever ones,
Bob and John.

What flies higher and faster than an eagle;
Moves in underwater distances greater than a whale,
And quicker than a shark;
On land, makes the chetah look immobile;
Can burrow deeper, and more effectively than a mole;
Is more powerful than elephant, rhino;
Has a higher perspective than a giraffe;
Presents with more audacity than a monkey;
Yet has the discerning powers of a gnat,
And the future longevity of a fruit fly?

This time of year,
When trees go bare
And snow covers our ground,
I come down
With a seasonal disease...
Weeks prior to Christmas Eve.

The onset is a distant twinkle
Shimmering in the deep;
That gives me such a nuanced twitch...
I itch to hang a wreath.

And when I sneeze,
I'm joyfully pleased
To shop for such and stuff.
I horde it in a secret place,
Then worry I've not enough.

When my muscles get tired and weak,
My back gets bent and sore,
When my body starts to sweat...
I await the seasonal cure.

I'll run a fever, hullucinate,
Take to my bed and wait.
Don't present me meds,
Don't ring me up a nurse,
I'll protest and rave.
This winter ailment,
This gifting curse,
My present proclivity,
Will only break
Come Christmas morn.
Oh Come, Oh Come Nativity.

Don't look in the rear view.
It's there, in front of the windshield,
That looks to the immediate future.
I sit between the two,
With the past in the mirror,
And the simultaneous future
Over my hood,
And my wheels spin,
I'm moving.
Trees and people jostle
From front to back, continuously.
Road signs are a blur
As the air pushes the world aside
Like lace curtains,
Like love,
Enduring through unintended consequences.
A simple gesture,
A mustard seed,
Growing.
Like crystals, connecting,
Dissipating into one.

I have stashed my Glenfiddich
And Marlboros
In the basement cupboard,
While settling in,
At Ground Zero.

You know what I don't hear
That I heard when I was young;
It'll all be over soon.
Sooner than you think.
I heard the doctor say that,
And the pacings of
The Presiding Proctor
Raise tensions in the room.
Then someone says, It's good for you.
But I'm not holding the spoon.

This too shall pass,
The same sun will rise,
The rain falls evenly
On both our sides.

I don't believe in six of one
Or half dozen of the other;
Or the other side of the same coin.
Seldom do we get what we deserve.
I have yet to witness the last
Going first or vice versa.
Maybe there are lasers in space
And brain worms,
Black is not white,
White is not black.
Words are friends.
Fear not,
For they are with us always.