A Meeting of the Minds (or, How a Passing Convoy Puts an Abrupt End to an Early Peace Movement), poem by Emery L. Campbell

      A squad of US soldiers on patrol
      at night along a roadway in Iraq
      met evidence of wartime’s gruesome toll:
      a mangled corpse that gave them all a shock.

      Examining the body they could see
      the fighter who lay dead was from Iraq.
      As they advanced some two more steps or three,
      they found a GI bleeding, pale as chalk.

      They gently raised his head and asked him, “What
      in God’s name happened?” In a voice that came
      in gasps he said, “I’m walking, heard a shot.
      First thing I see this haji. I take aim

      “at him and he at me, a stalemate, so
      I holler out, your boss Saddam is cheap,
      a hypocrite, a liar, trash, all show.
      The gunman looks me in the eye, the bleep,

      “and yells in broken English, ‘So’s your prez;
      he’s nothing but a dog, a filthy hunk
      of crap, a moron, all the stuff he says
      is total lies, he’s just a piece of junk.’

      “It takes a sec till we see eye to eye,
      when all at once, without a thank you, ma’am,
      as we were shaking hands, the first of six
      unlighted trucks heads straight at us, and wham!”

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Jeanpaul Ferro