A Lonely Day in Iraq

Someone's muddy boots left,
Tracks on the off-white tile,
Call sign, One Whiskey says,
"Clean, clean, clean."
But what does it matter?
It will be muddy again before a long while.

Besides, outside the desert sand is still covered with frost.

They come in like earth-bound astronauts,
Their faces wrinkled weary,
Their bodies
Rolling rocks.
Weapons hanging from
Sweat
Stained
Slings
Swing.
I see pendulums.
Before long, One Whiskey will call,
After all,
Even astronauts leave tracks where they walk.

But what does it matter?
Outside the desert sand is cracking with frost.

And while I clean, I sing,
I love you, I miss you,
I love you, I miss you,
At home, far from the desert frost,
I know you love miss me too.

Crinkled clear Skotch loses its touch,
Above me, you yearn,
Pulling from his stick-grab grasp.
Skotch can do nothing to hold you back.
And tumbling you come to rest,
Upon the warmth of my chest,
And to you, I silently say,
"Do not be sad,
Do not be sad, okay?"
But honestly,
Who is it I am trying to persuade?

Outside the desert frosted sand crunches under tan issued boots.

And the happy lights shine bright,
Behind you,
The pine tree holds his pose tall. Perfect,
Red and green orbs and silver confetti adorn his lively limbs,
Waiting for me to come in,
Taunting: "Oh, do come in. Do step on through this proscenium and let us begin!"
Another mistletoe romance,
Another golden ball cue at midnight to kiss,
These things and more: all missed.

And outside in the hall,
One Whiskey calls,
Someone has left tracks again.
He is drowning in the song I sing:

I love you, I miss you,
I love love miss you,
At home, far from the desert cold,
I know you love miss me too.
I will be home before a long while,
Holding you,
When the desert frost finally turns to dew.