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Thursday, February 14, 2013

Mr. Army Man

It's more of a prose poem, off the cuff type writing. Please let me know what you think.
Mr. Army Man

I sit here on Facebook

and I look through the pictures,

wishing I had Mr. Army man.

I met him on the bus

on a cold January day;

my grandmother had just died

and I needed a friend.

I had just missed the bus,

"Fuck," I muttered to myself;

"When is the next bus?"

I asked the guy standing, bundled up.

"Well, one just left,

I'm guessing 40 minutes."

So, we started talking.

He lives on the hillsides

of the Main Line,

across from where my trolley passes.

He's a Philly boy, born and raised,

Eagles fan, different from my love

of the Packers and everything Wisconsin—

he shows pride for his city unlike me,

but he loves his country the most.

Everyday he takes karate,

"strengthening," he flatly states,

he's so matter-of-fact;

I guess that's how the military operates—

this is my first experience,

I have always wanted a soldier boy.

He says I'm cool with a mix of weird;

we communicate via text,

I'm too nervous to talk—

but that's okay, at least he says

while we're out and about

traveling near and far.

He rides a motorcycle

and the wind blows my hair,

the rush is sudden

and takes my breath away,

but maybe it's him that does it.

I sit here on Facebook

looking through his Paintball pictures

from December, a little before Christmas.

He has pictures from his deployment,

he's stunning dressed in camouflage.

My heart beats fast;

I feel like a stalker,

the anxiety and sweats return.

I try not to think 

because my friends state

"That's how you always ruin yourself."

But, I know what I want

and I think I love Mr. Army man.


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