And in the light
of dying day
your voice grew
strong
and boastful
as you showed me
your
celluloid past
pointing them out
One by One
telling me names
and dirty deeds done
and secrets shared
of
severed heads
landmine limbs
in treetops
and dried human ear
in key-ring
We raised our cups of whiskey
to abject adolescent atrocities
and
to you making it
out alive
when so many
armed lives for hire
hadn't

I took one
last long look

A group of grinning
boys in fatigues
posing
with guns
for the camera
who ALL
came back as
different
men

Carsten Thomsen

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-cab-drivers-confessions/