what you would die for

all those things that defined me
i've put carefully away.
my badge lies among the clutter
in my bedside table.

my deep blue tunic and pants
with the razor edge crease
is hung in a plastic cover
in the guest bedroom.

my white command level shirts
with the patches on the shoulders
and the silver emblems on the collar
rest in the dark in the back of the closet.

my cover, with its silver oak leaves
hangs from the hat rack 
by the front door
beside my Charlie One Horse hat.

my 9mm pistol rests by my head
in the master bedroom
with its loaded magazine
waiting for me in its leather holster.

i have come apart, for all time, never to reassemble.
when i pass, my kids will snicker
and throw all the parts in plastic trash bags
or save them for Halloween.

but for me, it was the stuff of life
and i gave it everything for more than
twenty years of heart and service.
but it only meant something to me.

strange, don't you agree
that those things you would have died for
all come to nothing, in the end
in the back of a dark, crowded closet?