I still see you-- all odds and ends, open shoelaces
unconnected web straps your runty body afloat
in oversized fatigues star of the misbegotten

called up on a dark day at the draft board in St. Louis.
who are maybe thinking we're losing the war and desperate
so here you are in this battalion of so-called Combat Engineers
gray watery eyes behind the GI wire-rims looking out impassively
at be-shelled be-bombed landscapes of old European cities

You keep to yourself write home to Mama don't carouse
around in war-torn towns. Have only one friend
Bearfat greasy giant swamp angel from Alabama
hunter of turtles your protector shielding you
from the tricks and gibes although you're so good-natured
and dumb not seeming to mind them much but anyhow
nobody messes with Bearfat.

When finally the European branch of the War ends
May '45, we haven't lost one limping cockeyed grunt

until one fine day we're working around a bombed-out
power plant all rubble the stunning havoc of the bombardiers
and rising above the ruins all that stands a tall chimney
the way you often see a chimney standing proud defiant after the fire
earthquake or bombing even Hiroshima.

and we're taking a break and some crazies
up the ladder climbing to the top and then standing
way up there silhouetted against the big blue
roaring beating his chest it's Bearfat playing King Kong--
or maybe King Kong playing Bearfat-- and way up
in the ladder cage small as an insect it's you still climbing

there's iron work and it's loose and Bearfat kicks it and it
falls straight down inside the ladder cage the Iron of Fate
and you win the trophy World Class Fuck-up survive the whole
damned War then killed in this damned-fool way and
to boot your only friend your protector the instrument.
Oh, irony upon irony, ferrous, ferrous, ferrous.

..........................................Israel Lewis (Adapted from my short story "The Chimney.")