There was a knock on my door <br />it came at two twenty two <br />the parrot had stopped squawking <br />and the dog did not bark <br />I leaped from the chair <br />where I had fallen asleep <br />being taken by surprise <br />I managed to stumbled to my feet <br />wishing to escape <br />before they would finally realize <br />it was not me they were looking for <br />but a man in my disguise <br />.....didn't they know <br />.....hadn't they been told <br />that when cornered like a rat <br />he would fight to the death <br />and not be taken alive..... <br />Grabbing the warm beer <br />which was next to my chair <br />I chug-a-lugged my last meal <br />while running my fingers through my hair <br />preparing to die <br />racing through my prayers <br />begging that my miserable life <br />would somehow be spared <br />When....for no apparent reason <br />the parrot started talking <br />'bout nineteen sixty nine <br />.....how the war had been a quagmire <br />and Nixon would resign..... <br />Begging to disagree <br />on the topic 'Dogs of War' <br />a cracker lodged in his throat <br />the dog he did bark <br />echoing the kind of remittance <br />that would send shivers <br />up ones spine..... <br />The knocking abruptly stopped <br />and a voice yelled out from the hall <br />Open the damn door you bastard <br />we need your room! ! ! <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Ted Sheridan ©2006<br /><br />Ted Sheridan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-post-mortem-blues-of-a-vietnam-vet/
