The Reflection ((Vietnam War, 1971) (poetic prose))

I walked into a bar on 1st Avenue in Minneapolis I remember, it was 1982, and I sat down at the bar, looked into the picture across from me, drank a beer down, asked for a second, smoked a cigarette, several of them, looked into the picture deeper, its glass reflected me.
“You ok, it looks like you’re trying to find yourself in that picture and it bothers you?” said the bartender to me, kindly.
There was a horrifying feature in that picture, it was me, and I replied to his question:
“Mister, according to the patriotic principles we are suppose to have had here in the United States—in war time, as in going to fight in the Vietnam War, I felt all men should have gone, consequently all men by law did not have to go, equality was measured differently, if you were in college, or married, or had money, you need not have gone—you were dispensable; therefore, I have a right to look deep into your glass that has a picture beyond it, with contentment or discontentment, for it concerns my sense of right and wrong.”
The picture was that of tranquil setting, with large stretched out bushy green trees, folks going on a picnic walking between them, children, wives, gentlemen dressed prim and proper. As a person with common sense, I undoubtedly felt, I did not bring home anything that had to do with that scene for my country, my point of view was, the battles I fought in 1971, killed people over, was it over nothing?

Poetic Prose #2361 4-26-2008 ((a Minnesota poem)(written about 11:00 PM, Lima, Peru, at home))