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November 27, 2006 |
SONNET FOR BOB
He fought in the European campaign, flying the B-24,
A kid in a flight jacket, in the clean blue cold,
And all his life he didn't say much about the war
But down deep he was always 25 years old.
And he looked at authority with a narrow eye
And when they told him to line up here, he went over there.
A long life and right up until he waved goodbye
He was independent, flying on a wing and a prayer.
Skirting the clouds, looking for what is real,
Poking his camera through the door, lifting the lid,
Watching, looking, listening: that was his deal,
And in his memory, we could do the same, kid.
To give up authority and simply try to see.
I'll look out for you, kid, you watch for me.