Soldier.

You're in some diner biting the edges of your nails
Tender touch but the devil is in the details
You are the consequence of heated demands
But lightbulbs tend to burn when you hold them in your hands

I walk into a restaurant somewhere in New York City
Flash my teeth white
Like blood diamonds
Like something cut
And clear
And stolen
I shake hands with the man four times my age
With lines that trace across his face
Like highways on a dusty map
And a tongue that sputters
Stalls
Stutters
Like it has run all out of gasoline
All out of drive
And I hope his eyes will skid across my cold shoulder
Sharpen it into blade
I hope he will say something fast enough
For me to hit the brakes
To break open my marble expression
I hope for hazards
For headlights
For bite
For quick trigger pull, click
If happiness is a warm gun
I want to be fevered metal
Burning and begging for the bullet of rage
And so I stay
Hoping he will invite me back to some motel room
With starched white sheets he can unwrap me from
Like a body bag
I hope to be the flag
Mourning for morning at half mast
A mask of rag doll and still stature
Stone statue and plastic
Eyes, closing caskets
I hope my body elastic enough
To snap into flinch
Into swing
Into sing these noose notes
Let youth hang like a crucified melody
Call this holy
Hold me in your battered fists
Build your body of styrofoam
And let me be the wrecking ball
But Jesus christ
I still cannot break loud enough
For the truth to release its hostages
Across the table I stare down the lack of life
In the mans' eyes
Wish them empty sockets
With them electric enough
To shock this apathy into anger
Wish for my backbone to bend from a question mark
Into a fist
Into a fight
So I can finally write this war out of me

Beg me
Desperate to disagree
Tear down the walls
Let it flood
Hot-wired, it's in my blood
You're still here asking for more
Beg me
We've worked this out hopelessly

Instead, he tells me that when he was young
And was drafted for the Vietnam war
He almost bought a train ticket to Canada
He tells me the older he gets
The more loneliness loads its gun
Says he has swallowed all of his bullets
Starts shooting off his mouth
Becomes the little boy being drafted again
Says he is only buying companionship
To keep himself from capsizing
And suddenly we are both so small
And so much the same
And suddenly every creased highway is a lifeline
My spine uncurling into a tightrope
I can string across the table
And back to hope
He pays with an envelope of cash
And a book of poetry
Tells me, not everyone is the battle
I make them out to be

Months later
When I can no longer afford to live in New York
He pays for my train ticket to Canada
Tells me I do not always have to be a soldier
Tells me the war will be over
Soon enough