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I first met Death when I was threeTo T. S. Ross's previous piece     Voice of Jay, Recollection in the: #1To T. S. Ross's next piece

That morning             can now mean 
only one, 
as once a day 
In November.
I awoke,
Turned tv on, 
saw the Towers fall

A choice, 
I may 
Remember either 
this day, 
or my life

Cowardice ruled.
Quick choice.  
Join cattle, 
chew cud

I chose, 

heard the call 
I long derided, 
cry for blood.
Flag unfurled.

couldn't quite howl 
with madding crowd,
Yet other voices 
damn few.
My secret, 
that instant 
of Crimson Joy

I called myself 
to heel.
I had my 
pick of wars.
Join in
face the abyss

That day          That moment
of that day
Revealed deep 
Of hatred 

Matching my 
Southern hatred 
of the Yankee,
My Texan hatred 
of the sinful East.

My first thought, 
my first joy, 
someone got in 
A good lick.  

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