Moe, Larry and Iggy Pop

If asked they would have
claimed to be suffering a kind
of delayed PTSD directly related
to their service in the war,
as if that service would excuse
their current behavior: sacking the
bar, pinching the woman and
expecting free drinks in return
for dubious services rendered.
Which war they were supposed to
have served in was unclear, though
there were oblique references to
Kuwait, burning oilfields, jungle
fatigues and Mama San whorehouses/
bars, suggesting a kind of fantasy
island place of engagement imagined
after far too many nights watching
cable TV movies and Survivor show
reruns, under the influence of street
drugs and no label supermarket beer,
than from actual combat experiences.
They claimed to have scars to prove
their assertions but weren’t about to
show them to “just anyone” and “besides
they had better things to do with their
time than suck up to some limp dick,
stateside, assholes.”  Assertions generally
made as they were being escorted by
force out of whatever establishment
they happened to be in at the moment.
Unfazed by such unceremonious
treatment, they swore eternal allegiances
to each other as a band of brothers,
three stooges in search of an audience
perfecting a routine so old it has already
become a kind of classic.

Share on Facebook
Share on Twitter
Share on Reddit
Pin It

About Alan Catlin

In a previous life, Alan Catlin, was an itinerant bartender, a profession he likens to being a soldier of fortune only much more boring. Usually.The best part of the work was an almost unlimited source of free material for writing projects and his placement in a high risk pool that finally got his life more agent off his back once he turned thirty. His work was twice voted among the Most Neglected Books of the year by legendary small press editor Marvin Malone of The Wormwood Review. He is currently the best kept secret in Schenectady N.Y, where he lives, through a series of coincidences, that defy explanation. His most recent chapbook is a sequence of neighborhood poems from March Street press, "Near Death in the Afternoon on Becker Street."
There are no comments yet...

People who liked this also liked

Most Popular Article This Week

Graphic of the Week

Thursday, October 27th, 2016

Poem For A Friend In Prison:

Hello Joe I could handle the name change but they keep transferring you to so many different units that I’m running out of space in my address book and now they’re shuffling you from...
Poem For A Friend In Prison
by A.D. Winans