Dreams and Memories Within a Reverie
I'd turned off the TV and was sipping
green tea when I imagined that I
was an Iraqi soldier--not an elite
Republican Guard, just a regular
lousy grunt with an officer's wacky
eyes and gun aimed at my back.
Bombs shook the sky. Loose
dirt sifted onto my tin plate
filled with endless lentils and rice.
There I dreamed of my mother's great
chicken stew simmering on her
charcoal stove and of melting
into my wife's cool flesh
in a hotel room in Baghdad,
where my pals and I used to stroll the streets
after the sun went down
and then stop beside the Tigris
for dishes of strawberry ice under stars.
How I laughed at the deep frown
which appeared on my grandfather's face
when he saw me in uniform
for the first time.
Ain't nothing to do now, boys,
but gag down the rice and dig deeper.
Harvey Goldner
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