The Soldier and the Gypsy
Her earrings dangled like fruit
Ripe for the picking
He had his collar turned up punctually
He was on a recce and had his long sight on her.
As she looked away for him
Saddaam gazed far, far, far away in Dam Square
With Iranian flag flip flops on.
She looked a bit fuzzy
Was he a raghead Rupert?
Or just in the wavy navy
Talk of port for the Tunisian Italian
As he ate a big pizza pie
She was a weakened warrior
He a wanderer who could only follow orders on leave
He wanted all the fun of the fair.
As she flossed her candy
He glazed over at her toffee apple
So he began to obsess over her fascinations* for a while
He was posted up at the bar
She was absent without leaving
He took her on a forced march
To free April
Lengths, breath and the depths
This time she was first over the top
She was just passing through him again
Leaving him,
Still breathing
In her wind and the dust of her wagon
*Phrase stolen from my friend Marcel
