Friday, May 23, 2014

poem of the day 05.23.14

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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