.jpg)
sometimes i wonder if the Marines/Soldiers killed in Iraq
wander the streets of Baghdad,
as if patrolling,
searching for a way home. but they're bound.
locked in.
perhaps they patrol @ night, after the sun goes down.
-hanging gardens cool and wet.
trying to find the insurgent that killed them;
that placed an IED inside a donkey's carcass;
or sniped them from a mosque.
but sometimes i wonder about all the civilians we killed.
because we did.
that's not debated.
that's a fact.
collateral damage, if you will.
and maybe these civilians and Marines, they search for the same thing.
lives cut short.
or maybe they just die. right there on the street. warm blood down the side of their leg.
thinking they've pissed themselves.
not even realizing these few moments:
the ant between their thumb and forefinger;
a weed, brown needing water;
spent cartridges - gleaming;
are the last bit of life they'll ever experience.
the Marines and Soldiers search the streets of Baghdad, trying to find a way home.
patrolling the empty alleyways
like vapor
or mist
as it rolls in off the Tigris
and covers the streets in haze
