After fifty years of forgetting
bras and draft cards burning
in a pile on the quad, the colors

red and green every night on TV,
Viet Nam stares me in the face
on a gate that protects the scales

where we weigh cattle, far
in every sense from those days.
A silent nod for Rod and Bill,

for Joel and Waddie, for all
the cowboys who can’t balance
surviving fifty years to zero.


One response to “SCALE GATE

  1. William Jones

    Good one, John. Thanks.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.