War Poet.ca - A CFAP Project by Suzanne Steele

after (8)

yesterday a telephone call from one of them.

“I think I’m beginning to feel human again”

“what do you mean?”

“I shot a squirrel and felt bad about it”

(he was getting rid of vermin in the barn)

another call yesterday from another one,

“want to go golfing?”

I’ve only golfed twice. or rather, chopped up the green twice.

“sure”

we head out to our local Par 3. a beautiful day. he carries the clubs. teaches me to swing. I get a curious satisfaction out of the “plunk” the golf ball makes as it plops into the water feature.

I don’t do too badly. he does okay. he’s just back from his Mod 6. trying to figure out what to do. not home quite a year and still finding his feet.

me, I’ve just won a huge award with life-changing implications. something very, very big, very positive. and I feel too burdened still to celebrate.


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The page you're reading contains a single diary entry entitled after (8). It was posted here on April 19, 2011.

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