fleet week
the three of them
were sitting at the end of the bar
in their starched white uniforms
like returning heroes
like princes of new york
christ, they all looked like sunburnt popeyes
drunk and liberated from their duty
waiting to go back aboard their ship
to shower with each other again
we were drinking nearby
drunk and liberated from our jobs
waiting to back to our apartment
to shower with each other again
when one of the little soldier boys asked me
is that you’re wife?
well, not yet, i said
which i thought was good enough conversation
but the jerky little g.i. joe
kept staring at me
kept staring at my woman
like he needed to get something out
the other two in their starched whites
just kept looking around
waiting for another drunk patriot to buy them
a congratulatory drink
or for someone to pat them on the back
and say, hell of a job, soldier
when he said to me, they must be fun
what do you mean? i asked
well, he started laughing
then he put his hands toward his breasts
like he was holding two balloons
i’m not too quick
especially when i’m drinking
but i think i understood what he was talking about
you know what i mean? he said
you know? you know?
finally i leaned over and said to the other two swabs
you better watch him in here
this is a communist bar
when they saw what he was doing
they tried putting his hands down
but then he fell off of his stool anyway
another brave soldier gone down
we’re sorry, one of the sailors said to me
but i wasn’t buying it
we’d been watching clowns like these
harass women all week in the city
like conquering titans
like golden gods
so i finished my beer
then my fiancé and i got up to leave
i felt drunk and liberated
by never becoming just another
misogynistic, volunteer asshole with a gun
it’s all right, i told them
maybe we’ll all get lucky in the end
and he’ll get his balls shot off
when you boys sail back to iraq
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