5/2/11 Bin Laden is dead. I picked a fine time to quit drinking

It is Monday which meant I had to wake up at eleven for my one on one with Dr. Bradshaw. I was bebopin' down the road to 103.7 the river when it came on. Bin Laden is dead. It took every muscle not to wreck my car. That was one of the reasons I joined the army. I turned it up.
I arrived at Mcguire, smoked a cigarette and went to Dr. Bradshaw's office.
There was a spring in my step. My head was clear but still solid mentally. It was as if America gave a great sigh of relief to the once lost in the world trade center and the once lost in war.
I showed up at Dr. Bradsaw's office to find a note on the door. She was sick. I showed up for nothing. Then I remembered that my other doctor told me to go to the blood lab. I did so.
In the waiting room, I shared my sentiments with a man who was waiting on his dad. He said that the old timers the once in vietnam said there will be a retailiation.
I told him how over the years I had become a woose. I didn't like war or guns or any of that. I told him how I wished the soldiers would be sent home.
Finally my number was called.
I sat down in the blood room or whatever they called it.
I had only black coffee today I asked if that was okay. The blood lady said that was fine.
As she was putting the latax or whatever around my arm to bring out my vein, I told her I had to settle down because I didn't want it to affect my blood test.
She told me everything is okay.
When she was done I left.
I went back outside and smoked two cigarettes. I talked with this volunteer who used to be in the Navy during the first desert storm.
He said he found out last night, he said after I gave him a cigarette because he had none.
I told him I had just gave up drinking and now I really wanted a beer.
He started laughing. That's good.
He went on to say that he was introduce to alchohol in the Navy. His first experence he got really drunk so drunk that his wife had to drive him home. One of his friends passed out and they painted his toe nails and put fritos or something on his nails. We both laughed.
I gave him aother cigarette, thanked him for volunteering, and then waited in line to get my car at the vallet.
The line started to get longer.
An older man cam up to me. He had something in his hand I thought he wanted to give me.
"Where did you served?" He asked.
I told him I didn't see combat, and that I was at Fort Irwin. He walked away with what looked like coaster for drinks in his hands.
I got my key for my car and decided just to walk to it instead of waiting for the vallet to pull it around.
I drove back home wanting a beer very badly.
I went to Kroger ignoring the voices in my head that wanted cool and refreshing libations.
I settled on a six pack of IBC diet root beer.
I went to check out and asked for three pall mall blues shorts. I could tell that the check out girl was a few windows short of a sky scraper so thought this maybe a problem but I was in a good mood so I didn't mind.
At first she came back with one. I put three fingers in the air and said three. She came back got two more and held them in the air. I nodded. They were 100's not shorts. I thought maybe my speech impediament got in the way. I didn't complain. I paid and left.
Now two bottles of root beer are in the freezer. I'm writing and waiting for them to get cold so I can celebrate.
THIS IS A POEM WRITTEN AFTER 9/11.

TURN UP THE WAR
can't stand to hear
mozart ringing
stagnant brainwaves
revolve around
outlets and ower surges
sparking the black out
inside
speechless at the sight of the fiasco

flesh melts off
skeletons
yet still shreiks
revenge
while
entering the melting pot

colors
blood death and tears
phase out
the red white and blue

a car reads "nuke'em" (in Richmond Va)
a writer calls peace treason

thoughts delayed
in combat fog

now they are planning
an opposition
united by tragedy