The day and I told them it would be bad
 But they scoffed and refused to believe
 They insisted on doing things their foolish way
 Proving they were war zone plebes
 So, hours after we were cleared and supposed
 to traverse the lone gate letting all in
 They finally rolled in haughty, boastful, dumb and blind
 Committing all war zone sins
 Of course, the Legionnaires made us wait
 They were wise to the tricks of those
 As each second passed the day scorned more
 Preparing to unleash its woes
 And then it did, to the stun of all
 except of course to me
 I’ve gone that route again and again
 Through each pore I could clearly see
 The onslaught was the stuff of Tennyson
 the fools realizing they caused their doom
 with rockets and bullets and dirt and swirl
 the panic, the fear just zoomed
 Then - BANG -- the truck rocked and was now aflame
 and the driver slumped, out cold
 My face, my arms, my legs did bear the blows
 Yet now the day said “be bold”
 Shrapnel flew like confetti
 to each uncovered part
 The searing fire drove deep inside,
 to fry as it tore me apart
 The strangling smoke clouded and mocked my senses
 as I tried to steady the crush
 I checked and all limbs were still attached
 even while the blood so gushed
 Ears ringing loud, legs buckling quick
 To decide was not in doubt
 It is a dash all by one’s self?
 Or should I carry the driver out?
 The latter choice indeed was made
 as bullets continued to fly
 dragging him slowly, his bulk a sinker
 Bullets taunting as they whistled by
 Blood covers the eyes, the knees do falter
 the helmet takes a graze
 Then suddenly safety is closer, waving the way
 The Legionnaires through the haze.
 They grabbed us and hugged us and took us away
 to where they laid me on a table
 They dug out the shrapnel, with no anesthesia
 it was the only way they were able
 Then hours later, when the searing stopped
 the tripped-out dreams went wildly flying
 Until they brought couscous and red wine
 And finally, I knew I was not dying
 It took little time after that
 by those who only play
 You were just slightly wounded they would note
 is like being slightly pregnant I would say.
 So quick the flash that dreary afternoon
 it is so far in the past
 Yet each creak, each clap, each next gun shot
 means it will always, always last