Monday, February 13, 2017


One Christmas

the Army gave me
a five-pound box of nuts.

Put it under my bunk
and took it out every once
in a while to chew.

Meditatively. The box
announcing, first, its provenance.

Something like 

Nut Assortment. Grade-A, M1 A1

and on and on in chains of numbers.

Every system must put nuts
in their place.

The sitting and chewing was not
a social act. Other troopers distantly

doing their things. Blurs. Well, any life
lends definitions of loneliness.

One of mine.

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