In Perry Hall,
My body hunches
Over the metal frame
And my feet pedal slow.
The horizon blurs like
The space between smoke and fire
And insects clamor in crescendo like
Single-note-delayed, static, acid,
Electric guitars that then
Decrescendo.
The orange sun seems to be smaller in Maryland
Than the white-out sphere over Fallujah
Though, it burns more.
I am glad to be away
From bullets, chai,
Insurgents, kabob,
Snipers and pita bread.
Officer Matasovsky appears on my left.
He doesn’t care what “I am away from.”
He writes me a ticket
For not wearing a helmet
Even though my head is safe.
Connect with Dario online:
Personal Website (Free Writing, Podcast, Dario in the Media, Biography, Books, Blogs)
20 Something Magazine (Editor-in-Chief, Creator)
JMWW Literary Journal (Senior Nonfiction Editor)
The Veterans Writing Project (Instructor, Nonfiction Editor)
LinkedIn (Professional Stuff)
Facebook (Be my friend?)
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