Fixing the Hole

Photo by RP Thomas

Rex Dern

As far as Rex Dern could tell

everyone meant well at Tex’s Tavern,

but he was sick of it all.

A more selfish man he couldn’t recall

than his friend Ted, whose swell

of agony hit him like a tsunami of fear.

Day in and day out he sits there,

usually on the same stool if he can

arrange it, dropping tears into his beer.

Goddamn, Ted'd shot many a man

in his war, as had Tex in his, but neither

one could make sense of it; far be it

That the U.S. government ever admits

wrong doing, so it falls on them to one

day fix things. Rex knew neither would,

Nor could. Their faith in illusions was

too strong; he saw anything beyond

breathing as but a mercenary's song.

Rex dragged himself up from his desk

and looked out the window. Tomorrow

he’d cash his last unemployment check. 


TS