D'nasha is a guy I met through his girlfriend, poetess Jennifer Bowens. He's a Marine, and we had several common interests, so we kind of fell together as fast friends. We went shooting together, got into trouble together, and all around had fun just being two guys as friends. He's more than likely in the first wave of Marines being sent into Iraq during the 2003 conflict, and regardless of what I think of the thoughts behind the conflict, I know first hand that the men and women out there in the sand deserve nothing but support. This is for my friend, hoping he comes home safe.
          -- March 21, 2003

They see you as an instrument of policy
a faceless tactical piece on a desert chessboard,
marching approval points up a decimal with your strides.

I see Wild Hundreds rollin' down your back,
hear dominoes on card tables and
taste smoky Chicago laughter in your presence.

They dress you in camoflauge,
seek to fatigue foreign regimes they once courted,
equip you with bullets and detachment
and condition your obedience.

They never smelled your evanescent dreams,
never saw reflections of freedom in your two-step dance,
don't care about simple notions of devotion
tattooed on every callused finger, each keloid and scar.

You don't deserve Vietnam homecomings and teenaged indignation.
You're just the finger that pulls the trigger,
a professional doing the job,
feeding yours best way you know how.

I'm praying you walk your Illinois arches
back down familiar streets
unharmed by slings and arrows of outrageous politics.
Lookin' for your freshly cut fade and mustached grin
walkin' through my wrought-iron door.