Wednesday, November 25, 2009


by Lyn Lifshin

You wouldn’t believe
the jokes, we were
all glad to get
there and not in
body bags, at least we
could sing and ogle
blondes, those of us
with eyes still and
lips that could move.
I’d have been out
sooner than 12 months
if it wasn’t for the
skin grafts. No one
felt funny because
nobody had everything
they’d been born with.
Even the quadriplegics
would go on about girls.
Even in the copters
with blood filling the
cockpit, matting
hair, the first thing
those who could talk
whimpered or moaned
was “Hey, mate, do I
still have my balls?”

*Lyn's website:

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