Breaking Rank

The junkyard was art
at sunset, the light making an abstract shine
on broken bottle glass and iron dinosaurs.
He saw ogres behind old washing machines
and a dragon lived beyond the littered hill near the back.
He had killed that dragon many times, but not
now, not today.
He sat on the husk of an old stove,
shuffling through his baseball cards,
staring into the faces of men that never cried.
As he licked away his boyhood tears,
the young lab jumped up to him, resting
his paws on his knees.
He knew that his dog would never cry, either
no matter how many times
the people he loved
died.
He stood and winked
at an ogre with orange eyes
and headed back home,
a man.