אמת/ emet

Twentynine Palms


What do you say when you look down at your newborn son?  Your first born?
What a moment, for Chrissake.

Here you are—a little fucking baby—straight out of the ether—and my hopes for you are just as high.

Ten fingers.  Ten toes.  All that jazz is running through my head.  I’m just so goddam grateful that you’re healthy.

Jesus Christ.  This day is Heaven.

But you have to understand the whole story.  The big picture.  This is only the beginning.

Long before there was even a hint of you—there was just Pinto and me, this desert and all the dreams of what may come.  But you were always in those dreams, boy.

Now you’re here—and there’s so much more to it.

Do I feel fear?  Hell yes.  In private.  But it’s the future.  You can’t predict the future.

**

I’ve laid you on a bed of stars and stripes here in this California desert.   Red, white and blue—this is the Marine Corps, boy.  You follow the goddam flag and you don’t complain about shit.  And it’s that way in life, too—you just serve different masters.  And you got to keep a good head on your shoulders and keep your nose clean.  Life’s too short for much funny business.

Christ, what am I saying to you?  A fucking baby.  You don’t understand any of this crap.  You won’t for a long time.  I just wish I could make all your mistakes for you.  I just don’t want you to feel any pain.
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Goodbye (in the end)


I've been to Herald Square
and Jerusalem --The River Jordan --
Sea of Galilee --
Golgatha.

I've walked on Penny Lane.

I touched the Hollywood Sign.

so many other journeys.
—But now it's time to rest—
—been a busy day—