Locked & Cocked (An Amoral Paradox)

Amoral paradox. A pox On the civic constraints of 21st Century parenthood — In elder bad company of the Purveyors of pop warfare:

A young man’s journey Son of parent academics, Educators and musicians, Grew up in a house wall- To-wall with instruments Of music and botany; stability All manner of higher learning

To get out of a bad stretch o' Homies, and maybe to rebel From dad some, he joins th' Marines. Goes off proud and Feeling like a fervent pathway To a snowcapped mountain top

One tour patented in a hash mark He's a man now, visits home mighty Snowcapped mtn. moving mountains .... Signs on again for two more tours On that manmade quagmire metaphor Before th' big green machine releases Him to what remains of this life, liveli- Hood, and whatever resemblance of Civilization back home on th' block

Tooling unlicensed motorcycle Down familiar streets, now a Mountain moving mole hills Simple fact, there’s no one, No place, NObody at home: Who can understand his 2nd AND 3rd tours in Afghanistan?

Spanning his ol’ bedroom wall Hang thirteen scarves when in dad Walks…to see that Son is getting Aptly settled into his home digs

“What’r the bandannas, son?” Son looks through dad with a million mile stare …and says, “Souvenirs.” (Not even a hint Of jocularity in his tone) Then he turns to the final remains of his sea bag, reaches in for what Is wrapped..in another ornate rag Unwrap a black 9mm 'n loaded clip Inserts the clip but does not cock it Then stands there in his own whirl. Gently wipes cold steel barrel, his Unadorned fingers curled into th’ U-turn he aught ‘ave been able To discern—in lieu of warfare

Dad put shaken hand on son’s head Gently ruffle brown hair (a moment Of tenderness between a father and A son, not so to rile his boy). Then as dad turns, upon leaving son his peace, Passing...through bedroom door frame Into the hall he’s seen again and again, A fleeting look back ...to admire his son His little boy ... with the barrel of a 9mm Aimed up under his chin…then lowered (With a heavy sigh) and ceremoniously

(Like folding a flag) wrapped back Up n a rococo “souvenir” rag

♫messybear