There was a knock on my door
it came at two twenty two
the parrot had stopped squawking
and the dog did not bark
I leaped from the chair
where I had fallen asleep
being taken by surprise
I managed to stumbled to my feet
wishing to escape
before they would finally realize
it was not me they were looking for
but a man in my disguise
.....didn't they know
.....hadn't they been told
that when cornered like a rat
he would fight to the death
and not be taken alive.....
Grabbing the warm beer
which was next to my chair
I chug-a-lugged my last meal
while running my fingers through my hair
preparing to die
racing through my prayers
begging that my miserable life
would somehow be spared
When....for no apparent reason
the parrot started talking
'bout nineteen sixty nine
.....how the war had been a quagmire
and Nixon would resign.....
Begging to disagree
on the topic 'Dogs of War'
a cracker lodged in his throat
the dog he did bark
echoing the kind of remittance
that would send shivers
up ones spine.....
The knocking abruptly stopped
and a voice yelled out from the hall
Open the damn door you bastard
we need your room! ! !
Ted Sheridan ©2006
Ted Sheridan
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-post-mortem-blues-of-a-vietnam-vet/
