The last shot

We met for the last time

at the El Rancho.

He looked flush from the whiskey 

and old resentments.

His heart had been broken

From a girl who

Couldn’t handle the PTSD.

He said, “You end up with weird stuff

like spoons and bowls

from France.”

I’m now just looking

For blinking stars

between clouds.

It’s like chasing verbs.

Your eyes can learn 

from those river of tears and

I just find myself

planting trees to forget 

what I’ve lost. 

It’s somewhat soothing.

It seems I’m just waiting

for the stone to roll away,

and you know,

Vets just end up invisible.

I guess I’ll take a vacation somewhere,

because dreams for me,

seem always to end up as shadows.  

A turquoise boat in blue water

will do.”

– Burt Baldwin, Ignacio