World War Whatever

Standing on the fantail of a warship on patrol, Its wake stretching off to from where I’d come, Transporting me back to my first day aboard, Three long deployments ago. I’d learned about things like a bucket of steam, A sky hook, and a left-handed marlinspike. When sent below to fetch a fireman’s punch, I came back with both shoulders bruised. Now, beneath this cold Comanche moon, I find calm in the grace of self-reflection, And remember certain bitter confrontations, Where the only honest words were angry ones. I sincerely regret all my barbarous cruelties, But I make no apologies for being a survivor, While taking the heat on the South China Sea, Waiting for World War Whatever.