Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

the battle of clifton

there is a place
just behind my hairline

an indention in my skull
only reachable by a loving hand’s touch

made by the steel flying jump boot
of a shamed airborne soldier
i tried to play house with
when i was a freshly liberated
ingénue of age sixteen

i don’t remember what i said to elicit that well thrown response

he knocked the memory right out of me

but i’m sure it was the proper military stratagem
for defeating a mouthy bitch

he was an expert marksman who hit his target

certainly a custer decision

from time to time i still rub it
and think of him sobbing
begging me to be okay
as my head swelled with the fluid of his remorse
drifting in and out of consciousness
on the couch

the only thing i know now
is how tragically little
i knew then

i’ve since forgiven him
but he taught me a lesson i’ll never forget

and have since used to survive

a reminder in the form of a permanent crack
in my young, impressionable head

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