Frag(ments)

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A hundred potential Iraqs,
Afghanistan, Iran, Anywheristan,
and don't forget Alaska,
the Arctic, the frozen-fast front
of our progressive angst;
or conservative Gdansk and Georgia
(on my mind, mind over
matter it, nattering over action)…

I can't get no satisfaction…

…didja hear 'bout Wanda? …heard she always wanta, wanta, wanta…

And Betty,
high-school beauty-queen,
who ate herself to fat from lean and now
has nothing to lean on,
surface-charm gone and nothing much to say…

…it didn't hafta be that way, we coulda, shoulda, woulda…

Ah, red-headed Georgia,
with her burning bush
whispering in my ear, whimpering low
in the blue, cold moon-glow of our
good-byes…

…and now I'm flunked-out, zonked-out, soon to be decked-out
in khaki…

And Bobbie Jo with her legs
to the moon, the dimpled flesh
above her hip-swell
where her long back joined her thighs…

…back to back, belly to belly, well I don' give a damn, cuz I done that already…

ass-hole in a fox-hole, spider-hole, hell-hole, and we'll
just have to open up another front
                                                           it goes on (& on) from here…

…Iraq, Iran, can you say Chevrolet? Chev-a-let…