The hopping waiter

Rambling through the newborn day
On the shoot for something to write
I stumbled upon an eccentric cafe
The walls covered in old rhymes

I sat down, glanced through the stands
Felt the earth shaking beneath me
Lifting my eyes from the prison of the sunglasses
I encountered the hopping waiter

I asked him to tell me what had happened to him
Putting his life aside, he answered with a grin
Sat down in front me, where you were supposed to be
And started telling a tale about times in the Middle East

I once was a dreamer, exactly like you
Society put me on, and I quit school
I was thrown into the army, nothing I could say
And became another pawn slaughtered in another game

Arrived on a bloody night, so many people to kill
I didn’t even have time to think
I was a given a 45 and a knife just in case
The enemy was to capture me and make its slave

I thought that my bullets were blessed with the truth
And that to promote peace all I had to do was shoot
But then in the battlefield, December the 8th
I encountered a young arab, who was like me, just the same

We started talking, above us crossed fire
Shadows in the distance in death’s attire
He bummed a cigarette, closed his eyes for a while
And told me his story, which reminded me of mine

“Man, I was taken away from an ill dying mother
To participate in this search for a useless Grail
You were meant to be the enemy, not a friend
But right from the start I knew this prejudice would never end”

“What can we do, my catholic pal?
There is not a way to end this constant trial”
As the tears fled from his eyes, resignation in his heart
The grenade stood in front of us, echoing death’s chant

He was better trained; he was the first to react
He put himself between me and the devil
His face was destroyed, his arms flew apart
His soul finally left this world of war

The only wound I had, said the bartender standing up
Was a little iron stuck in my tibia
He saved my life cause he envisioned peace
Now you pass the message, he didn’t succeed

Arcadio Falcon. 2016

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