Take Mine

We’re past the grey line when the slab groans down over the lake from Ontario. White grass reflects the tail lights at the end of the street and everything goes mechanical for six months or so. This is when I look. Look within, to the flesh heart and hope to find something warm and true to carry me through. But what can carry a person through Iraq? Ice covered paranoia still creaks threateningly “remember viet nam. It swallowed so many, they can take yours”. And mine just left for school and I wonder will they take mine. Send them off to be killed as occupiers. Drinking coffee on a cold snow morning, consciousness hovers just below the surface. Rising to mix with steam, sometimes tasting like rational fear, sometimes like paranoia, sometimes like dream mixed with Columbia.