There was a clear sky, and some earth to hold. A demand. Metal edges smashed instantly on the head. Steel scorched quickly through his crying flesh. It caught. He saw truth. He had something to do. He rolled heavily over in the mud, and cried. It was a long hot wait. Distance makes belief a question in the heart. Far away, the war goes on. Blue time burns brown, and rots. We eat meat. It burns. That was in ’69. I’ve tried to understand. Truth is hard, a stone.