James C. Taylor

WASTED AS WASTED CAN BE

He’s as wasted as wasted can be,
Asleep on the sidewalk, waking up,
Barely able to stumble around.

He had been off to see the world
He never got that “GI degree;”
Gone too long, far past being free.

The only tour he sees today,
Is through another bourbon bottle,
A waving banner in his short circuit mind.

Wife, kids, jobs, MIA.[•]
Three-piece suit, another set of rags,
Alcohol blood flows through his brain.

After shock hell cut him down,
Bottle’s way he fights for freedom now
Vietnam ricochets through his head
Like shrapnel his buddy took instead of him.