My Discussion with Sergeant Brian Turner, 3BCT/2ID

I didn’t read Here, Bullet.
I saw the movie.

I waited at midnight for choppers.

— I patrolled the dusty street

in an iron coffin

As it closed
I felt the pressure

— push my ear drums in.

I bought the movie soundtrack —

— the single bass drum strike
of a rocket,

staccato roll of a SAW,

— snare of approaching Chinooks.

I pined for the poster

— screwed behind a cracked sheet of Plexiglas
outside the boarded theater.

I spied the decapitated tanks
hauled by the lowboys

— pass through the camp
under cover of darkness.

— I remember detainees
sitting all night

by the Humvees
zip tied at the wrists.

— A combat bandage served as a blind.

— And when we were done

we packed up our toys
and went home.

— I lounged in the APOD,
listened to my IPOD.

I flipped up a screen,
whipped out a movie.

— I saw that movie.

I read the book.