I was just out of the army, pfc,
a condo to come home to, so I
went to Armenia,
where I met a Canadian woman
with a van.
Right away she handed over the keys
and credit cards.
One day we came out of a restaurant
and the doors were gone.
We drove into a village in this doorless van
and ran into a
funeral procession. A child had died.
The father carried
the coffin on his head, this little box,
three feet long.
After him came a string of adults,
mostly women, then all these children
dressed in flowers, their best clothes,
laughing, in and out
of people’s legs, running around the father
like they were entwining him.