He's not your son
Your son is right here
Right now
In this town every night

How can you say I am supposed to be
Without his Afghanistan
Where I cannot even
Write him a letter

Without his wife policing it?

How do I know this is what he wants?
He said he would call me
When he got there
And he has not

How am I suppose to not
Call myself poor white trash
When these kind of things happen
And do I just leave him

As he has left me?

It is not fair
And I am old enough to know
He has been his own man
Since about 16

But he lived with me until 25
Only four years away from his
Yelling and screaming
Why do I sleep all day?

When I worked all night?

You go on and do what you think
Is right
And if you don't agreed with me
I understand

Because it's not your son
Over there somewhere
Perhaps dying for his country
It's not your son

Noah is my son and I remember that every moment.

12/1/2010 1836 cj

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