poem 4 : Unnamed track, Sarimbun, at noon

Somehow
         i drew sentry duty
        what shitty luck
            the old tattered red flag
        hung limp
        in the hot noon.
        who will notice this warning
        in this free-fire zone ?
        i yawned
        while the blazing sun
        burns mud, churned up by creaking V2s
        baked soil to fossilised
                furrows
        i lay belligerently in the tall grass
        swatting mosquitos
            chain smoking
            dreaming
        of my village girls
        their smiles, their thighs,their etc
        as 20mm Oerliekon shells
        shattered wooden targets
Somewhere.

01-12-89
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Notes : I wrote this poem about a sentry duty I did at a live range during my army service. The job is to prevent people wandering into the range and get themselves blown up. Nothing happens much during such duties, it was always hot and boring.