by Steven J. Serafiani
my father retells this story of his
“I was driving patrol with Rutherford, Shults and
Sanford through the dense jungle. From behind I
heard faint gunfire and instantly I felt a bullet
whiz past my ear, felt the wind off it hit my ear.
You were inches away from never being born.”
As a kid, I heard it and usually ate my
peas in peace, or at least pushed the peas
around on plate. Now, though, now I holler
inside- “With what have you done with those
inches!” Inches away from non-existence. My,
oh my…do I even fucking care? Yes.