MANHANDLED,
MY MAN HEART
As I exited the Army, there was a
feeling of excitement. I had left the
dead behind. The blue room was
still with a fruitful glow, but these
gents would never see me again :
no salutes, no yes sirs. I had
gauged three different wars for
their dumb asses and rank. My
arms and legs were tired. Libya
and Algiers seemed like nothing
now. The man who last said
'Mosul' I laid him down, and
the one with the 'Service In
Syria' tattoo, him too.
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