"Laser-Like, Old Glory"
No studying to figure this out. No practice; however, perfect practice makes perfect, not just practice; regardless, wanted to get an old Dodge; next, paint her electric blue, with Old Glory on the top; then, write GENERAL GRANT up there, and give it a proper number, though only some of us are limited by numbers.
My step-dad told me: "Boy, where every flag is, there's an angel underneath." And every flag mind you, not just ours. No flag should be burned, for men died under that flag, even if they were of the yutz family.
I'm too afraid to tell my shrink or priest my real problem. I won't totally and sincerely own my German heritage. Always felt guilty about it. My Grandma Bertha was from the stock of German immigrants during the Second World War, and my step-dad always called her an SS Stormtrooper--it scared the hell out of me.
Bertha was mean, tough, green fire in her eyes, and loved pastry. One night she smoked two packs of cigarettes, ate a whole box of chocolate covered cherries, and drank near a damn gallon of Maxwell House--that's living. And she did. Never was sick during her modern existence.
Big Bert. Tough as a fireproof memory. So alive.
