Vicky W. Salazar

Fresno, California

The Addiction

Ephemeral and evanescent
his life lived in the mist
days ebbing, slipping in and out,
of rosy hues, golden dawns
evenings adrift
On a lawn at Fort Bragg
sprawled, wasted to the world
cursing, sputtering, muttering
flying monsters whirled
holding him a prisoner
in the land of the free
not one gunshot or bootstep on foreign soil
his prison, vodka filled
blasted, cadaverous, blotted down
the honorable name
this personable war was not a boy's game. Once he'd ran among lilly fields
and rushing streams
he'd had his visions and boyhood dreams But on that October night sprawled
among these leaves - a cold wind blew to his
hot body, orange skin and yellow eye whites
his spirit floated out and danced upon the light
and came freedom finally from afar - he'd left his hut behind
and danced among the stars.
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