The Mustachioed Man

"Hello," I say

The big man with the mustache laughs

“Why?” I ask

We huddle closer together as he thumbs

the brass and wooden

trigger

“I am invincible!” he says,

swinging at us with the bayonet.

“Are you sure?” I ask

 

“I leave a wake of death and

destruction in my path,”

he roars, “Headstones are laid

wherever I walk!”

“Is that not power? Foolish boy!”

One man smiles, and collapses as

a bullet pierces his head.

“Are you sure?” I ask

 

“I Fight for king and Country!”

the man bellows over the explosions

As the dirt rains down, the others seem

to swell with

pride.

Maybe fighting is right.

I stare

“Are you sure?”

 

The mustachioed man grows quiet

his vigorous rantings dead

The color drains from his face

and his hands claw at my wrists

“All I see is death,” he whispers

His now dark and empty eyes

search my own

 

“I don’t believe in goodbyes,”

says the big man with the mustache

He leaps up, over the top…

and his body tumbles back down

“Hello,” I say