Bartending The V.F.W.

       Lawrence, Kansas (1995)

There's not much to it:

pour the drafts,

clear the ashtrays,

mix well-drinks.

The Vietnam vets

favor Jack-n-Coke.

The WWII crowd,

Scotch-and-Soda.

Our only Korean War vet

takes his brandy neat.

We keep a bottle of St. George

behind the bar for him.

An occasional floor sweep

exceeds expectations.

Christmas décor is tacked up

year 'round.

Campaign insignias

and service ballcaps

line a smoke-filled perimeter

that obscures all 

but the exit signs.

It's Memorial Day,

and the Colonel delivers

his annual speech

honoring the sacrifice

of our fallen brothers.

Manny offers a solemn toast,

"To the lost."

Jason buys another round

of shots.

To remember them,

they drink.

They drink

and beat their chests

in solidarity.

They drink

with the awareness

that all

are at the mercy

of the universe.

They drink

to animate themselves

and tell the stories

that otherwise

remain buried

in the footlocker of experiences

for which they do not

posses the tools

to relate

to one another,

let alone

civilians outside

eager to thank us

for our service. 

**First published in G.I. Days, an anthology by Milltown Press