Kiss of Death

I remember that cold winter,
Cars eager to answer the phone call from
Uncle Sam.
Respected men take chances for this war.
When blow fish is prepared, the chef leaves
Some poison in,
Leaving the eater with a tingling feeling
In the mouth
Called the Kiss of Death.
If too much is left in,
The eater dies.
Soldiers on the other side of the media scope
Are like those men
At those tables,
Kissing death, Inviting the lid of the box
To close In the dirt of a battlefield.