Missing the War

This is a poem I wrote at a writers' workshop for Veterans this past Sunday. The workshop was conducted as part of the Vegas Valley Book Festival and led by Brian Turner, award winning poet and Iraq war Vet.

We were given the first line.

All roads lead out of town...
But since everyone here came from somewhere else
We all want to know how we got here
And if it's ever possible to go home
Or if we can turn this way station in the desert
into a place we want to stay

The subway doesn't run from The Palms
We never really leave the place where we are born
Except to merely wander
The home team needs our support,
So how can we ever turn away,
in favor of neon and jangling coins.

Turns out I wrote about being in Vegas, and missing New York. The workshop was held at a place called U.S. Vets on Bonanza. It seemed to be some kind of shelter/home for Veterans. They got meals and what seemed like apartments. The workshop was in the lunchroom, so that's pretty much all I saw. But it was easy to see that the Veterans who live here, or frequent this place, are down on their luck. I felt a little out of place with my new car and my fancy iPad.

When we were waiting for Brian to sign our books afterwards, this guy Steve asked me about my computer. He had never seen one like it. He was interested in how it worked. He said he wasn't good with technology. He asked what it cost. I felt a bit uncomfortable telling him. As if my spending this much money on it made me seem elitist or something.

I talked to Brian about his poem, "Insignia," about a female soldier who was sexually assaulted in Iraq. I told him of my similar (or actually not at all similar) experience. He said he felt he had to write about it because it was a problem that was ongoing and nothing much was being done about it. I appreciated his speaking out for us. I told him I wasn't a war vet, but he said it didn't matter. We were all Vets. He thanked me for my service. And I thanked him for his.

When we went outside, some of the other Vets were looking at my car. They said it was nice. I said, Thank You. They asked if it was made by Mercedes and if it was expensive. Again, I felt awkward. I told them a little about MINIs. Steve gave me his phone number. He said he'd like to talk more about writing...and computers. I took it and said sure that'd be cool. Mostly just being polite. Partially, wondering if I should take him up on it. I am one of the lucky ones. I have it pretty good. I got my education, and finally have a good job. I live in comfort with my parents. This guy wasn't from my world, but he has something to say. Maybe even more so than I do, lulled into a dull torpor as I seem to be these days. Maybe having someone to talk about writing with wouldn't be such a bad thing. It might help me get out of myself. At least for a little while.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad