The tempo of the steel wheels got faster as the train began to pull away. Carl pressed his hand on the window and watched the prettiest girl he’d ever known, his new bride, Sara, hurry down the platform waving after him.
He was gone to fight in the struggle. – Southeast Asia -. He was still unsure what it was about, but they all assured him that he was protecting America.
So he went. And, there he found
Firefights
A Carl he’d never known
Wounded and dead, piled like driftwood
A Purple Heart
Morphine and his own proclivity for the same
The tempo of steel wheels lessened as the train eased into the station. Carl pressed his hand on the window and searched the platform for Sara. They had taken away his morphine, but substitutes are easily found, in a war zone. Life was never going to be what he’d grown up believing.
Medicines that raced like trains through his veins were more important
More important than the bride he barely knew
More important than money or food or family
More important than life itself
The train doesn’t stop here anymore.
The economy is in decline.
Property values are non-existent.
Sara lives alone at the edge of town.
Carl never stood a chance,
– bowled down by forces beyond his control.
tnkerr-Writing Prompts and Practice 
Ouch. Reminds me of the John Prine song, Sam Stone.
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Finely wrought, Thom.
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I believe you have spoken for many a warrior – to young to do anything but follow, and then fall. Some were lucky to come back phyiscally whole. But I could not venture to guess mentally…
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Yup. They sure DO change and the keep changing. Each time you think you’ve found a point where you can settle for a while, something happens and it changes. But on a up note, sometimes, the change is for the better.
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a terrific piece of writing, part prose, part poem, sad and wrenching; love the line: ‘medicines that race like trains through his vein’; a clever and moving narrative —
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There are times when you grab the very heart of it and place it ever so gently but honestly in front of us, like an expertly cooked meal.
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