It was meant to be a period of grace.
It was all of a long war
and no identification, no stamps,
no hungering after silk stockings,
no comrades on the assembly line
no weekend pass no turkey twice a year
no bands and tears at the railroad station
no red badge no popcorn no flickering lights
no salutes no parades nobody
said nothing and it was nothing of you
and nothing on your back and nothing
in your pocket nothing on your lips
nothing in your eyes nothing to do
and nothing to do with it.