Fuck with death....again.

     The grenadier moans in his sleep. He's making love with
a dead brown woman. A small, bone thin woman with heavy milk
full breast. A dead child's milk. Around the thing they make
in the red mud, green tracers whiz toward Colt muzzle
flashes.  Rocket Propelled Grenades splinter M-60 machine-gun
nest made of fallen tree trunks.  B-52s, the great shining
gods of the stratosphere roll thunder down wet jungle valleys
in the far south. Jungles die, arklighted moonscapes of red
cratered earth hold the sweating, sex-ridged grenadier as his
hard, young flesh pounds her cool brown body. Dead girl, dead
mother, dead land. South of the DMZ, south of Hue, east of
Pleiku, north of Nha Trang, between underfed thighs, between
rice fed thighs.   Overhead: "I am the God of hell fire," The
B-52s sing high, high in the stratosphere, as flying
telephone poles leap from Hanoi Hannan's tongue. Deep, and
hard into her cool brown valley the grenadier pounds; lust,
love, lust, love, sin, win, lust/love, Mother, home, GOD I
DON'T WANT TO DIE HERE!  Dammed youth is the sound his belly
makes on hers, as they fuck death in a forest of punjee
stakes, under black boroughs dripping Bamboo Vipers, "Kill
Me, FUCK-ing Kill me!" The Medic screams as the sniper takes
off his last thumb.  Don't leave your dead Marines! Not in
the twisted skeletons of an Agent Orange forest, not deep in
the brown earth of a VeitCong tunnel, not between the thighs
of a Cholon whore.  Not in Laos, not in Cambodia, but in your
memory.
     But, in your memory, like between cool dead thighs,
tracers break the mist as riverboats roster tail up morter
rocked rivers flaking fifty caliber shells from blood
slippery decks. Choppers fly out of Camron Bay, like cowboys
closing down a Saigon bar. C.I.A. agents give LSD to
momasons.  Phantoms roar, "Why don't you come home, Bill
Bailey?" Down in the Mekong Delta of her thighs it's hot as
hell. It's boob trapped. AND, his organism tightens in his
groin, like a snake wrapping itself around a bare skull.
Orphans scream for their parents as napalm rolls over them.
No bodybag for his cumm.  Not in De Nang, not in hell. (I
JUST WANT TO GO HOME ALIVE!)
     One day, one year, twenty years after his one war, he
sucks down his third beer, and humming LUCY IN THE SKY WITH
DIAMONDS, longs to be young and fuck with death again.