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.