A war-wise monkey roped to a pole
near the rutted dirt tracks
in front of our hooch
spit if you edged too close
without an apple slice or 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 as if
chuckling at their vicious barks
by stuffing hardened bread crusts
up its ass
We felt that way too, draftees,
about people back home
on their broad bottoms
in front of our two minute bit
on the evening news, tethered
as we were, straining on our leashes
to get back at them and we did
whenever we could
Taught their kids and grandkids
about pot and bongs,
siph, herpes and head lice,
flashbacks, tinnitus and foot rot,
brought home truth to the liars,
disdain for the flag
Some called it the 60’s
We called it our GI’s bill