The Soldier
THE SOLDIER
HE SAT DOWN WITH US
A BEERY GROUP OF YOUNGISH MEN
NOT WANTING TO BE OLD AND REACH THIRTY
WE TALKED OF SEX ESCAPADES AND
MONEY-MAKING SCHEMES WHICH HAD
FALLEN DOWN
AND BOUNCED AWAY FROM THE TV NEWS
“I’D SHOOT YOU FOR THREE HUNDRED”,
HE SAID, NOT SMILING,
I NODDED IN CAUTIOUS ACKNOWLEDGEMENT,
HIS BARBED WIRE EYES LOOKED AT HIS WRISTWATCH
LATER YOU COULD HEAR HIM COUGHING IN
THE TOILET: THEN IN A SHORT WHILE
HE WALKED THROUGH THE ROOM WITH ITS
STORM OF TABLES AND CHAIRS WHICH
PARTED MOSES-STYLE TO LET HIM THROUGH,
COUGHING AND CURSING, ANGRY THAT
THERE WERE NO MORE WARS TO FIGHT,
EXCEPTING THE ONES IN HIS HEAD
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