I Woke Up This Morning

I Woke Up This Morning

I woke up in Oakham

Like I had for seventeen years

Kissed my mother goodbye

Shook my father’s hand

And flew

Over parts of the country

I had read about

Seen on television

And movies

I woke up in San Diego

Like I would for twelve weeks

Tired and disoriented

Of pushups and “yes sir”

In a Navy of concrete and asphalt

That I hadn’t read about

Or seen on television

Or movies

I woke up in Denver

Like I would for seventeen weeks

Staring at photographs

Books and typewriter keys

And learning how to keep

Secrets I would learn

That you can’t read in books

Or see on television

Or movies

I woke up in Virginia Beach

Like I would for four years

Balancing duty and irresponsibility

Heaped in equal measure

On a life that I tried to live

Based on books I’d read

And seen on television

And movies

I woke up this morning

Like I have for fifty years

Still keeping the secrets

Entrusted to me by duty

And irresponsibility

That will never appear in books

On television

Or movies