Lars Thomsen

Back when I had two legs, I would have swum to the mainland just to get off this island
But my grades were terrible, my savings nonexistent
Options were limited

So I traded the ocean for the desert and my hockey stick for a rifle
While my friends were busy pledging frats and hooking up
I was living in a tent near Fallujah with six other guys and spiders as big as fucking squirrels

I grew to hate the sun and the heat and the blinding light
The way sand clung to my lips and eyelids and got stuck in my teeth

Dodging bullets
Firing bullets
Sweating bullets

I had nine days to go when the IED took out Kolchecki, Barnes, a chunk of my face, and my legs from the knees down
I was the only one that survived
If you can call it that

I spent Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's in the Green Zone casualty unit
Then another two months in Walter Reed
Cursing myself and everyone around me as I figured out how to walk again

The plastic surgeons did what they could with my face
Which hadn't exactly been GQ material to begin with
But the scars are still there
And so are the nightmares that leave me drenched

Days are better, though
The sun is just a suggestion here
The tides run like clockwork
People leave me alone
If anything, they avoid me

I pass my long afternoons with Crane
At least I know he's not staring at my face
He mends his nets and I strum my old guitar while the wind chimes swing back and forth
And for a while, I can forget