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LZ 24 (Campsite #24) (poem)
By Dennis Kroll
How could they know
that a war
was raging on
at Campsite #24
Their motorhomes and limousines
Plugged into their own realities.
I in mine, a poncho hootch,
I lock and load a magazine...
Now almost thirteen years later
since I was traumatized and abused
I light my heat tab
and warm my beans.
I'm bitter for having been used,
So when they hear my cry
and wonder why
a helicopter disturbs my sleep,
I'm not dreaming
The Veteran, Spring 1985