Missionary, Legs Over Shoulders:

That's how Lady Luck's been
givin' it to ya' lately
and you take it like a champ
not a chump
not crying
about your cervix
to the closest
set of ears.
What's next but
the old Navy saying:
"BOHICA"--
Bend over, here it comes again.
And ya' don't stop
'cause ya' can't stop.
Let the boys be boys, lieutenant.

I spent a lot of time
trying on bodies
and found one that fit
but only at night.
Dammit, corporal.
Fetch her some slippers
and if there are none in this town
we'll blow the next one
to pieces
in the name of the Father
the sun, and the Whole-Wheat Ghost.

A curse upon the silent eye;
the taste of too much pressure.
I don't like it anymore.
It smells like sin and failure.
It's never too late to quit, private.
Not even at twenty-seven.
You can keep her, brother.
I know the scent already.

The truthful scars will free themselves
long after stripes and shots:
Grandpa never jumped
on a grenade to save his buddies.
He was working on the boiler
drunk when it exploded.

Rub-a-dug-dub.
Thanks for the grub.
Greece must be better than this.