Crazy Little Thing Called Love
Distant gunfire scares the shit
out of him...his last tour of duty.
Scuffs the sand with his boots;
watches the moon devoured
by gaping mouths of hungry clouds,
yet, somehow, it comforted him
to know that same old moon,
would rise over the rooftops
of Brick Close in just a few
short hours from now.
If he could have got the hell
out of there, right then, he would
have done. But, could he, really?
What about his goals – what
he’d hoped to achieve? An engineer...
building roads and bridges
was his passion, and yet for why?
To see them blown to bits...
like his best mate, yesterday?
Mortars split the sky. ‘Friendly fire’,
or no, makes little difference tonight;
tomorrow he’d be going home.
Timely, perhaps, to say a prayer,
or two, and he would...except
he’d stopped believing that crap,
years ago...at least, ever since
he’d been here, in Registan.
God was love, they’d preached
at Sunday school, but where the fuck
was love now?
Sweat runs down his forehead –
mingles with the dust. Lights
his last smoke; takes a photo
from the top left-hand pocket
of his coat...wipes a tear
from a kid’s button nose.