  But it's dealing with metal subjects like war and honor.... In Honor of Leaving windblown broken stalked cornfields at the age seventeen for the bloody shores of Iwo Jima. Whether victory or defeat collecting those who would go home, you moved in with grey armored fleet. God only knows what you saw. In August of 45, that war ended another began for 50 years, all arguments ended with “Yes Dear.” Peaceful Buddha belly resting comfortably next to matching blue Laz-y Boys. White shirt slicked back wisps of used to be patches of brown hair. In fake anger you’d turn the corner arms raised, fingers coiled like the you were about to decent on prey “Who’s sitting in my chair?” with squealing child glee I’d scamper away on sandy shag carpet only to sit again when you went away.
In the fields of knee high, Traveling well worn dusty gravel paths Slightly moving tassels of sweet corn on the 4th of July You’d say, “Start ‘er up” and “Easy on the gas” I remember the familiar refrain whether it was pick up, tractor or combine. Hearty frame weathered to a slim rail blending in with sterile white sheets a bruised eye from the fall. Football sized growth protruding from your side A lone stark silo sat out your window the only view of world outside.
In the hall with florescent light reflected, long stretches on a green linoleum floor hearing mechanical bleeps and compressed air to help you sleep, I prayed and cried for the first time trying to forget the look of Morphine glassed eyes. Can’t believe this is real. Black casket disappears- minister says words. Fire Blue triangular flag handed to widow Fire Goodbye Fire For the record, the fire at the end refers to a 21 gun salute, not being cremated (as some dumb women in my class thought). 
