THE RED WOLF'S TALE


THE RED WOLF'S TALE


"There were actually quite
a few Odinists in Nam"

Redwolf pauses while we
down the last of our pitcher
fortifying our psychic wall
against the din of Happy Hour

"We didn't worship as openly
as the warriors of Christ
but Old One Eye did take up
His share of heroes that year"

We share an oaken corner table
at the Lady's Horn Saloon
where one can speak openly
about damn near anything

so long as you're not
sober enough to listen to
the secrets of the folks
muttering at the next table

"Our scout unit liked to
remove the phosphorus tracer
bullets from our rifle clips

"figuring if they illuminated
what we were shooting at
they would also illuminate
where we were shooting from

"Well one day we snuck up to
take a look at this village and
ran smack into a squad of VC
sneaking up on our firebase so
of course everyone scatters and
starts shooting at everyone else"

Sam the day man brings another
pitcher without being asked
He fought at Iwo Jima in '45
never talks about the war
can't figure why Nam vets do

"For a couple of mad minutes
I fire into the jungle without
seeing anybody ours or theirs
just the occasional round
whizzing by

"Finally I'd reached my last clip
so I popped it in and dived
under a clump of grass waiting
for everyone else to run dry
and go home

"when all of a sudden this guy
in black pajamas and a Kalishnikov
jumped up right in front of me
and in some kind of slow motion
we swung our barrels around

"and I fired first and then
his black pajamas caught fire
and then he caught fire and
crumpled into charred meat
like one of those suicidal
monks in Saigon"

I can't hear anything from
the other tables although I'm
sure they're still talking

"The leftover tracers"
I whisper

"That night the lieutenant
figured I needed to keep busy
so he put me on guard duty
but all I wanted was to get
high even though there was
a drug test the next morning"

"The day before I had spat
fire from my right hand and
killed a man for no better
reason than the Old Women had
cut his thread instead of mine

When Redwolf and I start
swapping road stories we
tend to ramble around like
drunk drivers changing lanes

"Now I was holding another
kind of fire in my left hand
and I knew that if I let it
spread I'd join him on the pyre
but without the bitter glories
of battle to give it meaning

"So in the middle of the night
I swore an oath to the God of
Oath-Breakers that this one
I'd keep until I stood before
Him in the Hall of the Slain

"that if I passed tomorrow's
test I'd do Him justice and
never touch a needle again"

I jag a glance around room
Sam is back behind the bar
"I didn't know you ever did"

He gives quick shrug
"Got the shit cheap from a
preacher's son in Supply who
liked to recite Bible verses
to us on while on acid

"Anyway I drew my bayonet
sliced a rune into the air
opened up a bag and shook a
month's pay worth of powder
into the bloody winds of Asia

"and I passed that test
so well that Preacher Boy
never spoke to me again"

There's nothing left in
our glasses again but
the scent of old beer

"So Sparrow that's why if I
ever catch you selling shit
even if it's only to your
friends down in the Village

"I'll nail you to Hela's gate
wrapped in olive green rags
as a gift from an admirer"

I smile and sip my drink
This is the way it is
when we're alone together
at the Lady's Horn

Redwolf always threatening
or trying to give confession
me always listening silently
or spinning a tale of my own

But this time his words
roll off his tongue but
don't roll off my back

and later as I stroll homeward
the friendly banter of street
dealers drumming up business
(this in the Golden Age before
crack houses and street sweepers)

apartment dwellers shouting
invitations and gossip 
across narrow street canyons
taxi drivers cursing the light

all melt into
the shouts of battle
the chatter of machine guns
the prayers of the marching dead
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