soldier

i like to belong to people.
the first night,
back in the home country
we wrote each other's names
and telephone numbers
in sharpie markers
up our arms
and other nonsense
like,
i like you
and you should call me sometime.
your name made me yours,
more than your kiss
or your eyes.
it didn't seem to matter
that we didn't have cars
and we couldn't
drive.
you'd cradle my head in your lap
and say i was the most beautiful thing
you'd seen
in your life.
the bus-ride home
that i knew was being timed
i was yours
for the last night.

sent the boy off to war
to make a man
of his scared heart
but he never writes...

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[Ed Hart]

you'd think the universe would hear these SOS calls, and somewhere find you a glass slipper that fits...