When he was only eighteen,
a brother signed his life away.
A decision made for future glory
calved hesitancy out from his head.
He was a proud infantry member
(“I ain’t no fuckin’ pussy,” he said);
America’s finest.
A soft-faced boy walking
out in Afghanistan’s hills
chose to take long way home.
He picked up a pebble, rubbing
his thumb over its rounded surface.
It was a beautiful, blue day.
Some poohbah decided
a brother must jump out
from his airplane and
kill some haji, in order
to protect the homeland.
He sat in a building braced
by acanthus columns
seven-thousand miles away.
When decisions collided:
a brother’s leg was gone,
a boy’s jaw got shot,
a poohbah sipped some coffee.
(A poem written and published durign my senior year of college)