by Andrew Jones
They say you can hear it coming, The RPG. I used to agree until the day It hit me like that moment you realize Your parents had sex the day you were conceived. An instant of surprise which stopped time and Although I was lifted up, the moment was Not so uplifting. Brick became dust and Silence became silent as combat became clear. To the Gunner who saw me—this life Or the next—we’ll meet again. I want to Say I’ll return your rocket, But chances are I’ll shake your hand.