Chris M.

The Czech Officer

He was the kind of man who liked the pay but not the job. He was the kind of man to whom integrity meant as little as the decorations on his uniform. He was the kind of man who called after the skinny Czech women in the street without wondering why he did it. He was the kind of man who would drown those women in his ocean eyes. He was the kind of man who would pour them large glasses of his cheapest red wine. He was the kind of man who waited until after they had glazed eyes and had let down their blond hair. He was the kind of man who said “I love you” before sex but not afterwards, when he would make her leave because he had work in the morning.
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I did a bad job dyeing his hair green
(there are still blond spots that I guess I missed)
and the pasta I made for him was undercooked
(I like it that way and forgot others don’t)
but he still looks at me
with the eyes set in the back of his skull
and says,
“Hey man,
thanks for everything.”