The wheels they touch the ground the plane skids to a halt Grandma waves her arms, eyelids filling up with salt They fire up the grill and pat him on the head He holds his paper cup high in the air and says that
“I must be one of the lucky ones some of my friends not so much, who aren’t here today Because my, my time over there is done I can’t say the same for the other ones who never made it back this way.”
A month later on the porch he gave them such a fright Suzie got scared off by all those outbursts in the night She moved back with her folks in western Tennessee He finds more solace in the taverns than the pharmacy, he says
“I might not be one of the lucky ones my war’s only just begun in this unfamiliar place. And why am I blowing smoke rings in the air reaching for help that isn’t there but nonetheless I wait.”
He stands in his fatigues in a civilian court The judge, he shakes his head and says “I’ll try to keep it short: I don’t know what to do in situations such as these, but we’ll see this more and more from this imposed disease. And I am really one of the lucky ones the price I’ve paid has been next to none compared to what you pay.”
And I, without any hint of sacrifice - we’ll go about our daily lives and wish this shit away. And I owe more than a passing thought that way At barbecues and on holidays to the dead and those turned mad And I don’t know which is the luckiest And what your definition of lucky is, I’m afraid that’s up for grabs and that’s all I have...