poem

i am watching saving private ryan [1998]
on TV on the 75th anniversary of D-Day
that killer landing of industrial killing
& mechanized assault
& defense
of what
come that scene near the very last
battle when the troops have a moment
to relax
before the carnage begins
& they are listening to edit piaf sing
but the troops don't understand french
they hear the sorrow in the singer's voice
so they ask their translator
the young man who so far in the flick
is way too scared to fight
what piaf is saying
she is singing the ancient tale of scorned love
& love lost
so that right now the translator
the one who is the most
cowardly of all the red-blooded
american soldiers
is the center of attention
he has knowledge that the others
would like to possess
like my friend the painter
vic selinsky who served
in the pacific theater
on a supply depot
vic's job was to off load
supplies from the ships in the harbor
& yet every morning
& every evening the ships
& the depot was bombed & strafed
by the japanese
i was at vic's house drinking tea
when he pulled out his sketches
of the japanese raids
were you scared, i asked
& vic gives me this look
scared, he says, hell no
i wasn't scared
i was 18 & thought i'd live forever
it was the other guy who was going to die
as for piaf, vic continued, she was alright