A war-wise monkey roped to a pole
near the rutted dirt tracks
in front of our hooch
spit if we edged too close
without an apple slice or a peanut
Base camp mutts charged it,
leapt out of range to dodge
gravel and mud clods
the tiny imp aimed artfully
at their heads and eyes
It chattered in defiance
at their vicious barks,
stuffed precious bread crusts
up its ass
Draftees, we felt that way too
about people back home
on their broad bottoms
in front of our two-minute bits
on the evening news, tethered
as we were in jungle boots,
straining under gear and ammo,
to get back at them and we did
whenever we could
Brought their kids and grandkids
pot and bongs, red siph,
herpes and head lice,
flashbacks, tinnitus and foot rot,
brought home truth to the liars
who betrayed us
Some call it the 60’s
We call it the GI’s bill,
slave labor for a stupid war