The Vacant Lot

The Vacant Lot                                                                              I went back home yesterday,                    visited with the folks, whiled the time away.                        Took brother John and toured the town,                          had a good time just driving around.                          On a back street was a vacant lot.                          'Who lived here,  John, I've forgot?'                        'Oh, you remember, that crazy old guy.'                      Then I remembered, and remembered why                    that lot seemed so barren, forlorn, and stark.                      Folks didn't like to pass there in the dark.                      A small, pillbox hut in the middle of the lot,                          otherwise weeds covered the plot.                          A wooden palisade with pointed end                        forbade any stranger from coming in.                  The man living there was known as 'Wild Will.'                          Rumor had it he would shoot to kill.                      Jungle-like vines, and camouflage netting                          produced a rather unusual setting.                        Wild Will lived alone, liked it that way,                        Rarely came out in the light of the day.                          Few people knew his true condition,                        Or the reason for his weird affliction.                    He was just a lad when they gave him a gun                    Never knowing his nightmare had just begun.                          Dropped him off at a Landing Zone,                    The Army everywhere, but he was all alone.                      Will's first night was on Monkey Mountain,                        Horrors so many, he gave up counting.                          The Sarge slipped Will a primo joint,                  Said tomorrow you're going to be working Point.                      Will learned very quickly how to survive.                          He did his year and came out alive.                        Yes, the Army taught Will how to kill,                      And thus, he earned the name of Wild Will.                    Back in the States, folks didn't give a damn,                        Of all the suffering he had done in Nam.                      Will tried to hold a job at the lumber yard,                    But his hands weren't steady, life was hard.                      Chills and fevers meant very little sleep,                      Into his dreams, nightmares would creep.                        Will was becoming a pathetic wreck,                        His only income a government check.                    Each night on a barstool, sipping his beers,                      Staring in the mirror at eyes full of tears.                      Yes, Wild Will was crazy, stark raving mad,                              A wasted life, so terribly sad.                    But now that he's gone, his hutch cleared out,                      Do any of us know what he was all about?                  Who gave him the terror, who caused his grief?                          Who made his life so short, so brief?                    I don't know the answer to questions so deep,                    But that vacant lot gave me cause to weep.                Rest in Peace, Wild Will.  May you live forevermore. Written October 29th, 2001 © on Oct 29 2001 04:00 AM PST   10 • 0