If you yell air raid

he’ll drop

and give you twenty.

 

His wires they say are

all fucked up.

His eyes glazed as he reels

 

his way to the library

most days.

Some say he was in

 

Vietnam, others say

he hasn’t

come back yet. I always

 

see him by the records

though,

flipping through, stopping

 

once every couple albums,

his big yellow

teeth beaming, smiling as if

 

his feet had never left

the ground.

 

Benjamin Mueller’s poems have appeared in 42 Opus, Euphony, Chronogram Magazine, and From the Finger Lakes: A Poetry Anthology. He has work forthcoming in Valparaiso Poetry Review. He lives with his wife and twin toddlers in Ithaca, New York, where he teaches high school English and special education.