I don’t know what to get the man. He loves
his gun, so I could get him stuff to shoot,
plus extra rounds of ammo. I could put
his favorite smokes in something that removes
the risk of drying out. He disapproves
of sentimental junk, but I could foot
the bill to fly him west before it’s moot.
Whatever, more than just a pair of gloves.
It won’t be what he wants, nor what he needs
to give him balance, get him back on track,
make his smile sincere past Christmas Day
out when the meaning of it all recedes
like unbought items left on layaway;
but sorry, I can’t give him her come back.