In the passenger seat,
Taking the turns
High up in the French Alps
A random conversation started
Goodness knows how.
Point blank shot to the forehead
My grandmother dead.
A thousand soldiers
Escorted us out
Down to the forest
To a makeshift camp
Two weeks to scavenge
Uncertainty, fear
Volunteered in the militia
Killed my fair share.
No wonder he has nightmares
Every single night of the year.
Psychological help, no.
PTSD to be sure
Violent tendencies too.
Surrounded by love
Messes that up too
Chaos, pain, confusion
He’s a stubborn, pig-headed mule.
Kerry Bridges