Bastogne

This city pushes down on me
I feel the ache of its heartless beauty
Deceiving with its sense of security

Look there
Toward the horizon
What there is of it
The sky scraper sentinels pose
Rigid simulacrums of permanency

I gaze warily around
Assailed by the staccato burst
Of corporate advertising
My instincts wanting to take cover
As memories of MG42’s resurface
Sounding like pissed off hornets
Intent on removing me from their forest

I’m nearly at the subway stairs
As a bus runs a red light
Horn blaring
Redolent of a Stuka on its run

This time
My instincts win out

I dive for the safety of the trench
Next to me
A man has done the same
His eyed filled with terror
Yet strangely resolved

I wonder why a man in is 80’s
Has wondered into this battlefield

He just winks at me
Gives a wry laugh
Gets up
And continues down the subway steps

I give an uneasy laugh

Lost in time

Bastogne

It will be with me forever

© 2008, Mosquitobyte