Ode to the Volunteer

A Poem by Howard Friedman

Not the ones from Tennessee
No young boys broken out in football rashes 

Or emotions that leave tiger stripes on their personality 
I hate you mom, I hate you dad, go to hell, a world of possibilities 

Nor is this the tale of young boys cannonballing into the pool 
The eternal quest to be seen

Nor is this the tale of young adulthood 
When vampire spirit keeps you up all night 
And the music touches your soul and you draw a map of this world the way you see it 

So often it looks nothing like the world you see and think, the one you feel 

This kingdom of feeling extends forever and is where your ancestors live 

All the easy decisions you’ve ever made are the ancestors pounding at your ear room door 

The rabbits on my street board the train 
They haven’t anywhere to go 

And if they could 
This is not the thing to get them there 
This is not that tale 

Nor is this the tale of cool lemonade or pretty women 
Though it is almost always their tale 

Today the men look at the sky 
Pro…