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.
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