Symmetry

**for "Military" competition**

Caught up with the God's eye view
from the shit-bird's seat of UH-60,
as the window seat
is really not the place you wanna be
at any kind of altitude
over some big ol' empty space
that lies between where you were
and where the General's got to be
yesterday, today and any
other day of the week

It's not supposed to be cold here
until you like hit outer space,
which I was told we were not going
anywhere near--it is almost kind of
refreshing, to be chattering
shivering for like the first
nine-point-two seconds. Then I
wind up grumbling to myself what
a frigging idiot at the last guy,
who was supposed to be
the General's medic-ala-PSD boy
got invited to do something else
for the rest of the war.

Volun-told is what happens
when they suspect that, after
volunteering to serve your country
with two wars going on--
the same trick is not likely
to be near so effective
the second time around.
My old NCOIC never even bothered
to ask for a volunteer.
The conversation starts out
with something about great opportunities--
and how vunderba this will look
in your record, and advance you
along in your military career.

There's definitely a shit-ton
of worst ways to tour your way
through 365 days of fun
in the dunes and sun--
full-battle-rattle,
and an aid bag kicker.

Such as it beats the hell
out of the house-to-house
door-to-door runs,
knocking on doors
spinning the charm
of the hearts and minds tour
to folk that, for the most part
are just getting settled back in
from the last time when all
hell broke loose outside
their front door-- and you really
can't catch an Iraqi speed-bump
at 40,000 feet...

Yeah, I probably would
never get the nod
to make that kind
of pitch anyways.
It's not really about
how I feel as I have a
fair idea of just how
they might feel about it.
Some just smile
and nod near enough
to the right places
to keep you moving,
while some others provide
a little more
convincing incentive
to stay and play
another fast-paced action
round of find some cover.

Looking down from on high
upon a river whose only
real significance has changed
somewhat from the last
time you had read about it
in the Bible; which leads
a strip of green
into a wide swath of nowhere--
and you may even convince
yourself that there
is no real significance
in what has changed in you
since the last time you read
the Bible.

It isn't really about
something to believe in
as that something else
that got left behind
in the way back whens.
You still kind of like
that kid, whose primary
struggles in life
were trying to learn
how to be a good person.

Even the ass-whuppings
don't seem near so bad in retrospect.

You may even wonder
who and what you
might have been
had you been born here.
It only takes a walk
through any village
or city to recognize
that the daily struggles
list tend to be much
longer, and more intense
even than your Daddy's belt--
no matter how pissed
he was at you...

As a child, I had
had a dream
of foreign armies
moving down my street.
I never really knew
who they were,
or why they were there.
For bad or good,
I could never really
even catch a glimpse
of the latter,
beyond the idea
that they were there
to change me, and my
world-- forever.

Helpless, like fear
and hate, isn't really
the sort of place
that a mind settles
in peace.

I begin to like my job
a little more.
I don't have to figure
out how to sell
the peace, about how
there's an opportunity
to decide some of
what and how your world
should be like,
and the politiks
of an open ended narrative...

as the UH-60 touches down,
I move out.
There's really no more
opportunity to wonder
what you might
live and die for;
and the daily struggles
of figuring who and what
is a good person is
in a situation like this.

It's all just muscle-memory
from here on out.

Uley