the Russian
soldier, says to his comrade
as they lie
in a trench, wet with mud,
and debris.
i'm tired of this stupid war.
shhh,
the other soldier says.
the captain will hear you,
but i am the captain, he says,
see. he brushes the mud and blood
from his insignia.
oh, yes. i see that.
yes, sir, sorry sir.
my wife misses me, he says,
my mistresses
miss me,
my children have grown up
without me.
i miss all of them.
plus my feet hurt with these
Chinese made boots,
none of the buckles stay snapped,
and i haven't
changed my underwear in a month.
what are we doing here fighting
like it's World War one?
trench to trench,
bombs, bullets flying over our
heads, rats
all over the place and for what?
i like these people we're killing,
and who are killing us.
they speak our language,
they have the same
culture and history, they dance
to the same music, eat the same food.
we are them, they are us.
this is crazy.
the world keeps sending the other
side weapons and ammunition
to fight us with.
they'll never run out of bullets.
yup, the soldier says. well,
what are you gonna do?
C'est la vie.
oh well.
i think it's time for lunch,
the solider says,
looking at his watch.
i opened up a can of beans earlier,
they're from Ohio.
have some if you want,
i have an extra spoon.
thanks, any Vodka left in your canteen?
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