what i really want to write about
is sitting in a big glass room
watching my best friend sign away four years of her life
to something i want to believe in,
"with no mental reservations."
i want always to remember the look in her eyes
as she turned to me
and said
"i'm looking forward to making you all proud."
i may never understand
this impulse
or my own aversion to it,
but i think the latter is based on the fact
that everyone changes, somehow.
there is thunder outside but the sky is colored in sections,
like a toddler got bored with his book.
-------
the military's emphasis on "family" belongs in prose.
i've touched on it once already, and i'm not sure i'm ready to address it with the attention it apparently deserves. suffice it to say, saturday was really fucking weird.
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