In the Real World
Loyalty. Character.
Either you're born with it, Jimmie said,
Or you're not.
Texan Jimmie.
He's 66 and if they'd take him,
He'd be in Afghanistan right now.
Instead, he tells me stories.
Jimmie said,
I thought it would be the same in the real world
after 'Nam.
I thought people would have my back
like my brothers.
It wasn't like that.
But I'm not right in the head.
Too many hits, I reckon.
So it could be me.
Link. Kansas boy.
Was the meanest toughest motherfucker I
ever met.
He killed men with his hands in ten seconds.
I seen it.
He'd been in Nam two terms, came back
for a third.
I said,
Why'd you come back to this shithole?
I was 17.
Link said,
Boy, shut the fuck up and
Learn something.
So I did.
For a long time.
Months go by.
Link warms to me, in a foxhole.
I had a girl back home.
I said, If I find out she's cheatin’
I'll kill her and the guy she's with.
I didn't know shit about love or women.
Link said,
There ain't nuthin' to fuckin'.
I said,
What?
You wanna know why
I came back for a third term,
Link said.
I married my high school sweetheart.
When I got drafted, she lived with my parents
to save money for an apartment.
I sent money home every month.
Finished first term, came back.
Second term, a little different.
In-depth, doing crazy shit, still sending
home money leave
can happen anytime.
Finished a mission, sergeant said,
Take a week, boy.
First place I go is my parents' house.
My wife moved out to an apartment,
couldn't take the parents
anymore. I get it.
My Dad gave me the keys
and because he was a military man
his WW II gun.
I get to the apartment.
So good to lighten my load.
Heard the television on.
Went into the bedroom.
My wife was fucking
some other guy I startled 'em.
The guy jumps up
grabs a big fuckin’ knife
tries to stab me.
Well
two days before that
I was killing guys doing
hand-to-hand combat
in the woods and it was
Just reflex:
I took my Dad's gun
out of my waistband
Shot him.
The bullet that killed him
went through my wife
Killed her too.
Police came.
Arrested me.
Said it was self-defense.
All charges dropped.
I went back to Nam
signed up for a
third term right after
the second finished.
So boy, there ain't nuthin' to fuckin'.
But when you kill
Your best friend in the world
The one you could talk to
Tell anything to
When you lose that
That's somethin.’
That's really somethin.’
Jimmie said,
And I thought about it different
After that
Years later
After each of my marriages ended
Losing my friend
The connection I had to that person
The part I missed most
Gone.
Jimmie said,
Me and Link
became friendly after that.
He wasn't afraid of nuthin'.
He taught me to be real observant, like.
Eight or nine months later
we were lying in a field of tall grass
on our bellies
and I could hear the bullet comin'
cause it makes a whizzing noise
through all that grass.
We both moved back
but it caught Link
right across the throat
a perfect slice
Opening him up.
Now I'm no medic
But I'm good in the field
I was tryin' to stopper the blood
But I couldn't shut
the vein.
If ya have a man down in the field
There's a hospital
15 minutes
from wherever you are
I got help got him
in the chopper
trying to hold
his neck together
sayin'
C'mon man, hold on
You motherfucker.
We got him there
Doc got him on the table
Link looked at me and
seems like he decided
to give in.
Just give in.
The doc said
You can take your hand
away now I tried
and couldn't
'cause Link's tissue
had grown onto my fingers
from the field
to the hospital
like we was
part of each other.
Tissue grows real
real real fast and
the doc had to cut us
apart.
He led me to a sink
and made me wash
real good
with Phisoderm.
I can still remember
the green bottle
with the black lettering.
Jimmie said,
I always thought Link
Wanted a part a him to go with me
I reckon.
And it kinda sorta did.
There ain't nuthin' to fuckin'.
There just ain't.
by Contributing Poet Lisa del Rosso Copyright © 2015
VWP 2015 First published in VietnamWarPoetry.com
Loyalty. Character.
Either you're born with it, Jimmie said,
Or you're not.
Texan Jimmie.
He's 66 and if they'd take him,
He'd be in Afghanistan right now.
Instead, he tells me stories.
Jimmie said,
I thought it would be the same in the real world
after 'Nam.
I thought people would have my back
like my brothers.
It wasn't like that.
But I'm not right in the head.
Too many hits, I reckon.
So it could be me.
Link. Kansas boy.
Was the meanest toughest motherfucker I
ever met.
He killed men with his hands in ten seconds.
I seen it.
He'd been in Nam two terms, came back
for a third.
I said,
Why'd you come back to this shithole?
I was 17.
Link said,
Boy, shut the fuck up and
Learn something.
So I did.
For a long time.
Months go by.
Link warms to me, in a foxhole.
I had a girl back home.
I said, If I find out she's cheatin’
I'll kill her and the guy she's with.
I didn't know shit about love or women.
Link said,
There ain't nuthin' to fuckin'.
I said,
What?
You wanna know why
I came back for a third term,
Link said.
I married my high school sweetheart.
When I got drafted, she lived with my parents
to save money for an apartment.
I sent money home every month.
Finished first term, came back.
Second term, a little different.
In-depth, doing crazy shit, still sending
home money leave
can happen anytime.
Finished a mission, sergeant said,
Take a week, boy.
First place I go is my parents' house.
My wife moved out to an apartment,
couldn't take the parents
anymore. I get it.
My Dad gave me the keys
and because he was a military man
his WW II gun.
I get to the apartment.
So good to lighten my load.
Heard the television on.
Went into the bedroom.
My wife was fucking
some other guy I startled 'em.
The guy jumps up
grabs a big fuckin’ knife
tries to stab me.
Well
two days before that
I was killing guys doing
hand-to-hand combat
in the woods and it was
Just reflex:
I took my Dad's gun
out of my waistband
Shot him.
The bullet that killed him
went through my wife
Killed her too.
Police came.
Arrested me.
Said it was self-defense.
All charges dropped.
I went back to Nam
signed up for a
third term right after
the second finished.
So boy, there ain't nuthin' to fuckin'.
But when you kill
Your best friend in the world
The one you could talk to
Tell anything to
When you lose that
That's somethin.’
That's really somethin.’
Jimmie said,
And I thought about it different
After that
Years later
After each of my marriages ended
Losing my friend
The connection I had to that person
The part I missed most
Gone.
Jimmie said,
Me and Link
became friendly after that.
He wasn't afraid of nuthin'.
He taught me to be real observant, like.
Eight or nine months later
we were lying in a field of tall grass
on our bellies
and I could hear the bullet comin'
cause it makes a whizzing noise
through all that grass.
We both moved back
but it caught Link
right across the throat
a perfect slice
Opening him up.
Now I'm no medic
But I'm good in the field
I was tryin' to stopper the blood
But I couldn't shut
the vein.
If ya have a man down in the field
There's a hospital
15 minutes
from wherever you are
I got help got him
in the chopper
trying to hold
his neck together
sayin'
C'mon man, hold on
You motherfucker.
We got him there
Doc got him on the table
Link looked at me and
seems like he decided
to give in.
Just give in.
The doc said
You can take your hand
away now I tried
and couldn't
'cause Link's tissue
had grown onto my fingers
from the field
to the hospital
like we was
part of each other.
Tissue grows real
real real fast and
the doc had to cut us
apart.
He led me to a sink
and made me wash
real good
with Phisoderm.
I can still remember
the green bottle
with the black lettering.
Jimmie said,
I always thought Link
Wanted a part a him to go with me
I reckon.
And it kinda sorta did.
There ain't nuthin' to fuckin'.
There just ain't.
by Contributing Poet Lisa del Rosso Copyright © 2015
VWP 2015 First published in VietnamWarPoetry.com
Bio: Lisa del Rosso originally trained as a classical singer and completed a post-graduate
course at LAMDA (London Academy of Music & Dramatic Art), living & performing in London
before moving to New York City.
Her plays, Clare's Room & Samaritan, have had Off-Broadway productions & public readings,
while St. John, her third play, was a semi-finalist for the
2011 Eugene O'Neill National Playwrights Conference.
Her writing has appeared in The New York Times, The Literary Traveler, Serving House Journal,
Young Minds Magazine (London, UK), Time Out New York, The Huffington Post,
The Neue Rundschau (Germany), Jet Lag Cafe (Germany), Writers on the Job,
and One Magazine (London, UK) for whom she writes theatre reviews.
She is working on a collection of essays and teaches writing at NYU.
course at LAMDA (London Academy of Music & Dramatic Art), living & performing in London
before moving to New York City.
Her plays, Clare's Room & Samaritan, have had Off-Broadway productions & public readings,
while St. John, her third play, was a semi-finalist for the
2011 Eugene O'Neill National Playwrights Conference.
Her writing has appeared in The New York Times, The Literary Traveler, Serving House Journal,
Young Minds Magazine (London, UK), Time Out New York, The Huffington Post,
The Neue Rundschau (Germany), Jet Lag Cafe (Germany), Writers on the Job,
and One Magazine (London, UK) for whom she writes theatre reviews.
She is working on a collection of essays and teaches writing at NYU.
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