Lines

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Lines

In this society, I live in lines.
Lines keep everything in order.
I line up for breakfast to start my day.
I line up for the latrines so I can do my morning hygiene.
I line up to exercise my big breakfast off my waist.
I line up to catch the HUMVEE to work.
I line up to get health care benefits at the troop clinic.
I line up in the SCUD bunker for accountability.
I line up for the Port-a-Potties to get rid of breakfast.
I line up for the Postal Office to send letters home.
I line up to get in my war wagon,
to scour the dirty garbage filled alleys looking for Terrorists.
I line up the dead bodies for identification.
Then if I am lucky, I line up to go home.
If not I will be lined up for my comrades,
to pay their last respects.
Any way you look at it,
I live in Lines.

Wayne Smith © 2008

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Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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ksascubadiver’s Poems (4)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Freedom 1
An Old Exercise: Run for your Life 1
By Night 0
Lines 0

ksascubadiver’s Friends (3)