Ol' Koz is blowing bubbles,
That goofy son of a bitch.
He really asked for trouble
When he stood up in that ditch.
It's up to me to stop it;
My God, are we alone?
Aw shit, there's Billy Proffit,
Blowing bubbles of his own.
Turn him over on his side;
What's next now?
Let me think.
I don't have much time to decide;
Here Koz, take a drink.
I'm shaking like I've lost control;
There, I've wrapped it tight.
Koz, you're lookin' good, you fool;
You'll sleep in sheets tonight.
There's the chopper; no more trouble.
Man, I almost came unstrung
When Koz blew red, wet bubbles;
When he caught one in the lung.
* * *
The author: Harold Cockson served in the Corps from Sept. 1966–Sept. 1968, with Whiskey Battery 2nd Bn., 11th Marines in Vietnam 67–68; Hill 63, BLT 3/1—Cua Viet River, Camp Carroll, Ca Lu. After that BLT went to Phu Loc, then An Hoa. Currently he is Senior Planning Specialist
with Nebraska Public Power District (26 years).