547.5 Day Journal NY is romantic, the first time it was snowing... even from my window at the halfway home. It was weird to see ye in the hospital. I being a drinker on the dry, gives me the jitters-don't send me there. gives me hallucinations... like crossing the ponte 25 de abril- whilst saying farewell to pripyat... again. And it was under the wires, I still remember... you said, "be not so fearful, please don't go to pieces". But it's in the eyes that speak words. In the mirror it was spoken... "yr wrong." A true soldier- 100 rockets couldn't stop ye, you were the one to kick ass and take names. A genuine howitzer of heaven- what a bloody sight! only we learned, the two of us, that a heart can stop a bullet. All this fucking,"The Red, The White, The Black, The Blue!" It's bollocks. Call yr congressman, write a petition, make waves... Bah! Nothing you'll get but the town hall blues. I've been fucking starspangled to death, I says. You always did everything for everyone... with no fear and no envy. But only with the questions, "When will we be angelik? "Who's gonna miss us when we're gone?". Even in mental darkness, feeling lost in these black amnesias... you lived for the good fight, even through war, And we now know that war is naughty. Found your letter to her hidden in the bunker. It read, "Dear Wendy, I loved her. When she spoke she sang, but it is your words that sound like a million marriages happening at once..." Not now... I must look in a forwarddirektion: The church choir will sing it out- and there will be angels over kilburn. The spektators will come to shiver in the wind(shamefaced***)... In any winters January. For you... not for a hero. So I guess this is a question- Will your black dollar bills get you into the last picture show? I think not. Straight into hell's bonfires with ye(be seein' ye)... I'll pray for you... and for all those lost at sea. Let the word go forth... I will put on yr stone what you wanted, "London! Fuck the KKK, and fuck McCarthy too", At ease... and goodbye soldier. Shalom.