AGENT ORANGE

Thoughts of the past blocking my future, poison
falling from the skies. Home again with a mist
of the orange always gaseous round my mind.
Death and distortion left behind.

I’m Ok. I was never in the zone.
My friend was, the one who’s always home.
Is it age or is it rage? A life cut short with
an upward gaze-falling,

falling,

falling,

covered

death.