Watching my girlfriend taking
a piss, I noticed that, well,
in the world of aviation, men
must be fighter jets & women
are the bombers. Men strafe
guns & dog fight, crash at all
cost--sincere protector. We’re
bawdybrawn as the poetry of
postwar Homers; they are our
Polybius, our Herodotus, they
are the beginning & the end of
all that’s to come & the few
that won’t ever be because we
are nothing more than a flying
bag of tracer bullets awaiting
bombardiers to grow their pair
& drop those last-laughs snug-
gly beside schools & hospitals.
a piss, I noticed that, well,
in the world of aviation, men
must be fighter jets & women
are the bombers. Men strafe
guns & dog fight, crash at all
cost--sincere protector. We’re
bawdybrawn as the poetry of
postwar Homers; they are our
Polybius, our Herodotus, they
are the beginning & the end of
all that’s to come & the few
that won’t ever be because we
are nothing more than a flying
bag of tracer bullets awaiting
bombardiers to grow their pair
& drop those last-laughs snug-
gly beside schools & hospitals.
Wow! Remember we talked about poems that follow one thread the whole way through? You craftily avoided doing that by first introducing a narrator watching his girlfriend piss which is in itself awesome. This makes me wonder what thoughts/images it would unlock in you if you could somehow see the whole world pee. Thanks for this, brotherman.
ReplyDeletewow... "Waiting on the Wlord to Pee" may just be my first book title... haha, you see what I did there? Pretended as if I'll get a book deal, then pushing it overboard to think I'd get a second. lol.
ReplyDelete