FOUGHT in the trenches of France
the screams belied the deeds
Instead of ‘for country!’
more said for love of mother

The trench reeked of gas
but the tents smelled of smoke
if you had’em you smoked’em
boots rotted and socks to hell

The voyage to paradise made
— Lady Liberty with her staff
as stiff as any military man
the diesel smoke choked many

Prohibition ran into my roads
From Chicago to musty Atlanta
bullets, broads, booze and brute
there I met my fate in rain-lead

Say nothing to the solider
speak low my ghost-friend
you were there too – I know
even though you don’t remember

::01/03/2014::