Sharing Birthdays And War Stories Poem by Ted Sheridan

With one breath she blew out all of the candles on her cake;
twenty one to be exact. I hope that fifty bucks I gave her
pays for a tank of gas. I remember when I became of age;
I was in the jungle and that stupid war contributed primarily
to my fears of dying young and not so much the fact that I
was somehow going to succumb to the nasty side effects
of global warming or a shortage in the world’s food supply.
I was so much more into the moment back then; one breath
at a time. Not a second thought was to be paid to consequences
beyond my control; the bullets and pyrotechnics were all very real,
not just some symbolic attempt to make me aware of my mortality.
I pretty much could smell the pollution of napalm and if that
didn’t convince me of any impending crisis; there was the body count.
With one breath she blew out all of the candles on her cake;
as the smoke cleared I kissed her on her forehead and slipped
her another fifty bucks because I wanted her to have
a better shot than I had at obtaining the American Dream….

2008 © T Sheridan