I'm Sorry...

The war is over and I don't have anywhere in particular to go but home to my father a fellow veteren. We share war stories, and I tell him how i have seven count them seven war rewards. I tell him how I almost won the Silver Star if only I had grabbed Kiowa's boot and pulled him from the S*&t field. But I didn't and now he is dead, gone forever. I grab the keys for my father's big Chevy and drive the seven mile loop around the lake, I keep going around and around I pass the same kids 43 times, a motor has stalled on the lake. After a while I pull in to the A&W for a Mama Burger and a rootie-tootie (rootbeer). I think on the letters i have written back and forth between myself and Tim about Kiowa and the shit field he is writing a book about the Vietnam war and us so i ask him if he is speaking of courage in his book. It is 1979 and iI am at the YMCA playing some basketball with some boys and well I just couldn't take it anymore I'm sorry...