twinkle twinkle christmas lights
helicopters out tonight
the enlisted men's club at ft black jack
in december, was well stocked
with black forest ham and cheese
on cute little local buns
and plenty of local beer
for we boys in olive drab.
the jukebox alternated between john denver
yearning for a country road in west virginia
and the o'jays urging people all over the world
to get on board the love train, love train...
four sergeants who all looked liked
they'd eaten beach balls
-along with their butter broasted chickens,
were sitting at the only booth in the club
playing poker.
top sergeant carpenter was methodically
draining all their paychecks.
i had received a package from home in the mail,
a transparent plastic toy ray gun
with red and yellow gears inside
that turned with each squeeze of the trigger
and shot out one inch sparks.
kind of festive.
the indiana farm boys
were jousting with the brothers
from south side chicago
on the foosball table.
i saw the four sergeants
fanning their cards
over their distended guts
and approached the table,
pulled the trigger over and over
as fast as i could squeeze it,
until the ray gun broke in half
ending my attack.
four fat sergeant mouths
sagged into their greasy jowls
and i walked out of the club
into the moonlight on the asphalt
between the low barracks.
the jukebox leaked a song by
harold melvin and the blue notes
out the window:
if you don't know me by now,
you will never ever know me….
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