Hot Book Guy
What were you thinking, when you lay down on a bed of pine needles?
Were you cold when you covered yourself up with your blanket made of
What were you thinking, when you laid there for two days?
What were you thinking when they found you; still alive, but hypothermic;
still awake, but comatose.
The slow-speed fender bender wasn’t even your fault, yet you bolted.
What memory made its appearance when she hit you from behind?
Was it the moment they handcuffed you?
Was it the moment you killed him in cold blood for hurting your daughter?
Was it one of your modern-day combat experiences?
Lord only knows what modern-day combat does your thinking.
What were you thinking as you sat at the bar, and ate, and read?
She wanted to know; she was intrigued.
Your muscles shown to your T-shirt;
Your intellect shown through your speech.
She found out–through limited conversation because you’re a man of few
words–that you were selected because you are our nation’s finest.
You were in training at Pickle Meadows to be a Marine Scout Sniper.
Of course, that was when your name was hot book guy.
She wants you to know that you will always be Hot Book Guy to her.
Lt Col Meacham