Propped up against the wall
Waiting and holding on to the last grip of civilian life.
Our heads were shaved and that was when it set in,
We were now recruits.
The swamps of both the training grounds and the packed barracks was home.
I had entered what was supposed to be a barber shop
But what barber shop has only one option?
Three chairs were laid out,
Three barbers waited parallel to the chairs.
Hair covered the floor like leaves on autumn grass.
All 18 years prior erased away with the buzzing
Sting of the razor.
Drill Instructors barked orders,
Move move move!
The words bounced off the cold, gray slabbed walls.
Simple instructions now became complex orders.
I practiced in my head how to march
Lo right layo!
I had hoped the earlier I started the faster we would march on the concrete parade deck
Filled with the footprints and stories of those before.
Soon we entered a room with grey plastic boxes stuck to the wall.
The boxes were rounded off on the edges
Stirps of plastic flakes were barley holding on the main box.
Before I knew it the box was opened and my hand on the phone that was inside.
We read off a laminated paper with instructions that sounded robotic.
I have arrived safely at Parris Island.