All the Wars

You're alive thanks toa strange chain of events that started with the death of elvis and yes, all the wars and their warriors wanted a piece of you in your living room. I'm alive after a time of riots and rides that ended with smack of gates into theirs clasps. all the dates that they throw at you were somebody else's stab at your lineage. we're alive thanks to a light shone in the night that found an airsip in its sights. in the crossfire your grandfather cried to your mother. all the bombs that avoided you had somebody else's name scrawled on the clipboard in haste. it was a clerical mistake.

when you first saw it you were in a stroller, flailing your arms at the dogs and the bees. they could have bit you but you looked so happy. they could have snapped but they showed you mercy. and come to think of it, I never once heard, "no." from the day you were called you've been walking through the walls. shot through a canon, you've landed in a flowerbed. guarded by invisable friends. guarded and invisable.