he lay dark-skinned and naked on a white floor,
stars pouring from eyes striped red across the inky navy field
of his vision.
those eyes closed. peace.
the door slammed open with a sudden bang, like fireworks
and bright light lit his hair and face up
like an entertainer on stage,
like an American Idol.
the star spangled banner whistled through the door,
through their straight teeth. they smiled wide and said
"we've got a treat for you, partner!
something hot, and honest!
nothing so honest and true
and American as apple pie."
and those good strong soldiers came and grabbed him with arms like football players,
and tied him down with the knots they learned as boy scouts.
and they pushed in a cafeteria lady's cart
and they joked about "mama's cooking."
and he thought at least it's not the water again. at least it's just a joke.
it was hot, honest American apple pie.
it was honestly hot, anyway. and they packed handful after
handful of hot, honest apple pie into his mouth and didn't stop
until his stomach was so hot and so honest
that he couldn't have lied about cutting down a cherry tree.
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