If I click this mouse once more
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Iím sure the site will open.
Maybe itís just being updated
So we will finally know
When he will come home.
Darbi will bake a cammo-humvee
With candles and welcome back.
I still havenít called about helium.
Posters and snippets lie scattered
On the carpet in my office.
His scrapbookís not completed
But I shuffle photos and clippings.
My thoughts are quite disjointed --
Is the waiting just too much today
Or am I getting high on spray glue?
I try to focus on the here and now
With my baby -- my soldier -- enroute,
But Iím so easily distracted
By the postings of the antiís
Who steal the value from his moment.
I do not have that magic today --
The poetry in my bones,
The desire to make it palatable
Or interesting to readerÖ
Just this incessant clicking of my mouse.
Here, I share, with stark honesty, my life.