Bastogne

Zachary Cahill

When we were 10 years old and
It snowed so much that
Everything was suffocated
Smothered with white
We would take our bb guns and
Play war
Making shelter underneath
The pine trees, cut off from everybody
Just us and dirty sandwiches
Talking about girls in class
Wondering what beer tastes like
It must be great
Wondering how to play guitar
It can’t be too difficult
Wondering why we were poor and
Why both our fathers drank so much
And why yours hit you at
The dinner table earlier for drinking
Too much milk
And why mine couldn’t seem to
Drive straight
And if everybody else’s dads hit them too
Or drove with a beer between their legs
But then it was time to be quiet
And huddle close
In our foxhole, the Germans
Were advancing and
It was cold