a poem for my neighbor

I was born in Hell’s Kitchen
retired from war
on the other side of the world
came home to a wife
who would later leave me
I said I’d never
buy a home again

but last year my second wife
of twenty-five years
asked for a home
so I prayed to Jesus
and talked to the VA

this morning I took seventeen pills
because tomorrow is the birthday
of my wife who never left
and Agent Orange won’t stop me
from walking to my neighbor’s house
yelling from her driveway
are you the one who sells flowers
limping to her field
buying every last bouquet

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