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No sister,
there are no eviction notices
posted on the yellow door.
The only fits here
are ones of lonesome thought
and contemplation.
I'll give you the tyrants number
for the telephone
from one mile
to one thousand miles
though his mind is only
pondering while in line
for the rubber stamps.
Be at ease, at ease
as a private in the armored corps
who stands steadfast and sweats
when his name is called
to draw his maturation,
the luckiest of numbers.
Peace time, peace
the white flags and olive branch
from the surging sea
and question periods
over the horn
in silent whispers.
No sister,
my time has not yet been.