I HEAR SOLDIERS SING

I am sitting in my brother's house.
In Miami Beach,
Miami Beach of great hotels
That stretch for miles
All *shining*, modernistic--cold and lifeless,
Lovely with the loveliness of symmetry,
That is unlovely and that
Makes me gag.
Miami Beach of bored, rich tourists
And of richer Jews.
I loll about in swimming trunks and moccasins.
My uniforms hang in a closet--
Forgotten--or at least almost forgotten.
I lie back in an *unstretched* easy chair
And take things easy.
I look up at the ceiling
Thinking nothing pleasantly.
My eighth drink sits at my elbow.
I am not happy--only passified.
The present is but temporary:
Soon I will be back in the world I'm trying to forget,
The world of knifelike corners and straight lines,
The world of cushionless chairs and tableclothless tables.

Miami Beach has changed:
Its hotels now house soldiers;
Its tennis courts are drill fields.
I am a soldier,
And I sit and drink of quarts of scotch
In a happiness that is unhappy
Because it cannot last.
And as I sit, trying to be once more a man
And not a robot,
I hear soldiers sing.

I hear soldiers sing
As they march past in the street.
They are OCS and OTS and BTC.
They sing these songs:
"Johnny Doughboy",
"A Wing and A Prayer,"
"The Marine Hymn,"
"The *Rigid* Cassons Are Rolling Along,"
I hear soldiers sing,
And when I hear them sing,
The same words form in my brain:
The bastards,
The Goddamned ignorant bastards,
I guess I'm drunk.
I rise up from my easy chair
And walk unsteadily to the window.
A platoon of Jeeps is marching by.
As they march, they sing a song
Called "Me And My Gal".
I had never heard it until a month ago.

2

I watch them through the window,
And suddenly I want a hand grenade.
Just one.
A hand grenade.
I'd pull the pin and toss it in the center
Of the Jeep platoon.
Bastards!
I have killed.
I have seen a man's face melt before my sights.
I have stuck them in the guts--
And laughed
As they clasped their bellies screaming.
I have seen heroes
Who were propaganda stooges
Of the government:
War with a dash of Mother's Sacrifice
And Father's Pride;
Death with chocolate icing;
Blood with a Coca Cola chaser.
THEYKXEXING

I hear soldiers sing,
Sing "Remember Pearl Harbor"
And "Praise the Lord
And Pass the Ammunition".
I was at Pearl Harbor,
And we had no Goddamned ammunition.
No doubt you smirk
And say: "He's bitter."
I'm not bitter;
I just see things as they are.
I've got my share of guts,
But still I want to puke them up
When
I hear soldiers sing.