Another box arrived. One of those things held in basements, until the owner, recipient is found.
Relatives, and friends only hold your old life for so long; maybe until they die. Today a part of my past came to zombie me. Items from my last pockets as I left that world; left the Army. This ticket for the laundry. I wonder what I left? Do you think they still have it, 44 years later?

moma, can you wipe that blood up off my face — rz.