Endgame

   I am trying to remember
    the way out of here.
    I can no longer run from the hounds.
    I am tired of the world,
    the sky seems much larger now.

    In the morning,
    I give up this uniform
    as a way of breaking free.
    I ignore your pleading eyes,
    your rivers of salty tears.
    How much more obvious can I be?
    Help me wash my life away.

    My hands are cold,
    the scars hardly show.
    We may as well pretend
    that this was the dress rehearsal.

    Ed Hoyer Jr
    c. 1993