A Soldier's Dream

I'm not gon sing a song or nothing.

Um, what that term they call it post traumatic stress syndrome? That thing that

uh, soldiers will get. I think a lot of people get that. It's like when you

experience somethin and uh, it affects you for a long time afterwards. I guess

everything works that way. Certain things have more impact than others.

Sometimes it visits you in your dreams or when you're quiet or just at peace or

trying to be at peace. A lot of soldiers get it. A lot of common people get

it. A lot of the time common people are soldiers, that's just the way it works

out.

This is a soldier's dream

The other night I was tumbling towards an uneasy sleep

When I had discovered myself

Atop the sweet sticky firmament of my dreams.

Daybreak came and discovered me

With my fantasies pasted to my face.

I cant look at you right now.

"Show me your eyes," she says.

"Later," he says. "Now, now." "NO!"

Shame is a prison you know.

Yeah, well discretion is a fortress

You're starin and lookin too closely.

There's so much about me that I hide

That careful eyes will recognize.

If you look closely you'll notice

That the pattern on this soft cloth shirt

Is made of workin men's sweat

And prayin folk's tears.

If you look closer you'll notice

That this pattern resembles

Tenement row houses, project high rises,

Cell block tiers,

Discontinued stretches of elevated train tracks,

Slave ship gullies, acres of tombstones.

If you look closer, you'll notice

That this fabric has been carefully blended

With an advanced new age polymer (oh man, that's nice)

To make the fabric lightweight

Weatherproof, and durable.

All this to give some sort of posture and dignity

To a broken body that is a host for scars.

I am the new landmark. I am the museum of injury.

Soldiers visit me and admire me quietly,

Whispering amongst themselves. You're no soldier.

Your soft bright eyes never have to

Survey the battlefield,

Much less its collected relics of which, I am one.

So, my flesh bullet-ridden remains hidden

Underneath these soft fabrics

Which I carefully select

That stand in for how I used to feel,

For how I remember feeling,

For how I dream about feeling,

For how I feel about you.

And now your curious fingers want to search

Beyond this tender armor.

I cant look at you right now

(This is my rifle there are many like it but this one is mine) 2x

Your eyes are too careful,

Collecting it all arranging it all;

Surgically, robotically, exactly.

I can't look at you right now

But that doesn't matter because

You can look at me and the longer that

I don't return your gaze,

The harder that your gaze

Starts to run across my back

Like a nervous policeman's hands:

Brisk, intent, anxious for discovery.

If discretion is a fortress

Then you're threatening to destroy it

By simply standing at the gates

And refusing to leave.

I can't look at you right now,

But you can look at me. Do you see me?