All the Wars Maurice Survived

I don't remember details of everything
I am, what you would call, an eternal soldier
I was built to fight, and nothing else
First there was a Revolution
And memories to go along with it
Then a Division, and that has its own distinct recollections
I prefer the Revolution to the Division
But ultimately war is war
Death is death
A kill is a kill

My name is Maurice
And I am a soldier
And not a good one
That's why I've died so many times
Even a decent soldier would manage to survive at least one war
But I die during every war
Skirmishes and small bouts included
Always the first to go
Always surprised when I turn up again
On another battlefield
Already holding my gun
Already aware of
Why I'm there

I'm told there are some men
Who remember their time in the service
With great fondness
Unfortunately, I am not one of those men

Perhaps it's because I don't experience any side but the worst side
The first fire, the first shot, the impact, the blood, and the darkness

And then fall down the deepest hole
The longest fall you'll ever experience
And when you land, you land hard
And there's a jolt that rocks your entire body

You're alive
They need you to fight again

Sometimes--right before I die
Other memories will filter in
But I don't know if they're mine
I don't know who they belong to
And I don't know what time period
They fit into

So many of these images are...timeless

A woman speaking a language I don't know
Sits in a chair next to my bed
Smoking a cigarette and telling me a story
I don't understand

A man I'm friends with
Buys me a drink
And we toast to the war
And the war being over
And what we're going to do
Once we're free of the damn thing

Glasses clink
Mugs maybe, beer mugs
And we drink

We drink

And then there's a bar
A whole bar full of people
Men, only a few women
All singing a song
I can't make out the words too
Either because it's a distant memory
Or because everyone's slurring their words
It being late in the evening
The alcohol being strong
And exotic

Lying in a hammock
Somewhere in the jungle
Looking at a picture
Of a woman
And two children
And me standing next to them
Looking happy
And knowing somehow
That I'll never see them again

Watching the dawn come up
From that hammock
The sunshine pouring over the trees
Spreading down to where I am
Staining the picture
Letting me know it's time to stop daydreaming
And start my day

The last time I died
It was hot
A hot day
Or maybe I was just hot

I sweat a lot
No matter what war I'm in

But the ending was fast this time
I blinked and my life--
It was over

And I woke up
At a kitchen table
Tie around my neck
Food in front of me
On a nice plate
Clean silverware
There were...mashed potatoes
And...corn, I think

And someone was saying--

'Daddy?  Daddy?'

A child, a young child
A girl, maybe six

Then a woman--

'Maurice?  Honey?'

A very pretty woman
My wife
Kate

What am I doing here?
Why am I here?
I'm not supposed to be here
I'm a soldier
A soldier
I fight
That's what I do
Why am I--

'Pass the gravy, please.'

Kate looks at me
She knows I've been gone
That my attention
Has been elsewhere

'Honey, are you--'
'Kate, just pass the damn gravy, alright?'

She knows better than to say anymore
She passes me the gravy
I smother the mashed potatoes with it
Next to me, my daughter holds back tears

I'm not sure what to do
Other than what I know how to do

Are there no more wars?
Is there no more fighting left to do?
What am I supposed to do now?

Kate clears her throat

'How's your lamb?'--she asks

'Fine,' I say, not paying attention
To the sharpness in her tone

It's almost eight
I've worked all day
I'm tired
I've died so many times

And now--

'Good,' she says, chewing her food loudly
Squinting her eyes
Stabbing her lamb
With quick, short jabs

'I'm so glad it meets your approval'

And I say nothing

Not
A
Word

Because
The last thing I want to do
Is fight