Father knew **** about Vietnam,
Says Bill, other than what he heard
On the radio or the newspapers or
All that other spiel from red necks
Or dumb heads, he knew nothing
About the real war or the reasons
Behind the death fields. Bill inhales
On his cigarette and takes in the
Young feller undressed and laid
Out on the bed with his thin arms
Behind his head, his ***** hanging
Limp like something dead. He watches
As the youngster looks up at the ceiling,
A cigarette held between red lips, his
Pale blue eyes like ponds of shallow
Water. We pulled out of Vietnam quicker
Than a ***** drops her draws in the end,
Although we in the know knew it’d come
To that even before the politician could
Pull up their pants and put on the public
Faces. The youngster sniggers, pulls on
His smoke, some private joke, Bill considers,
The shallowness of youth, remembering
Young soldiers in Vietnam and elsewhere
In later years blown up or out or dead or
****** in the head. The youngster gazes
At Bill wondering if this guy was some secret
Government agent who could **** as good
As he could **** whether it was all just talk
Or whether the guy could walk the deadly
Walk. Bill smiles, the innocence of youth,
He muses, stubbing his cigarette **** into
An ashtray, remembering the young kid
Whose throat he slit in Mexico some years
Back as he sat and **** some double cross,
Some dark deceit, Agency orders, job done,
Neat and clean, unknown, unloved, unseen.
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 4:27 AM UTC
Father knew **** about Vietnam,
Says Bill, other than what he heard
On the radio or the newspapers or
All that other spiel from red necks
Or dumb heads, he knew nothing
About the real war or the reasons
Behind the death fields. Bill inhales
On his cigarette and takes in the
Young feller undressed and laid
Out on the bed with his thin arms
Behind his head, his ***** hanging
Limp like something dead. He watches
As the youngster looks up at the ceiling,
A cigarette held between red lips, his
Pale blue eyes like ponds of shallow
Water. We pulled out of Vietnam quicker
Than a ***** drops her draws in the end,
Although we in the know knew it’d come
To that even before the politician could
Pull up their pants and put on the public
Faces. The youngster sniggers, pulls on
His smoke, some private joke, Bill considers,
The shallowness of youth, remembering
Young soldiers in Vietnam and elsewhere
In later years blown up or out or dead or
****** in the head. The youngster gazes
At Bill wondering if this guy was some secret
Government agent who could **** as good
As he could **** whether it was all just talk
Or whether the guy could walk the deadly
Walk. Bill smiles, the innocence of youth,
He muses, stubbing his cigarette **** into
An ashtray, remembering the young kid
Whose throat he slit in Mexico some years
Back as he sat and **** some double cross,
Some dark deceit, Agency orders, job done,
Neat and clean, unknown, unloved, unseen.
POEM COMPOSED IN 2011
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