Fortunate Son

I-August 17, 1969

I look around at the other men
Long greasy mops of hair
Unbathed and unslept for days
Ears dead yet drumming from the music
CCR, Jimi, Janis, The Who
Three naked girls run past
Slipping through mud, muck and garbage
I burn a little more off the joint
Pinch it between stained fingers
Love and peace taste better when they glow

II-August 17, 2009

He stands in the chill, smoking a cigarette
His breath makes vapor shapes in the air
They disappear before they are tangible
White hands as pale as nail moons
Rub his graying temples
No job waits for him tomorrow
But a handful of wars wait for him overseas
God Bless the U.S.A