Richard Levine

Richard Levine served in Vietnam from 1967-68, Cpl, USMC, Charlie company, 3rd tank Battalion, 3rd Marine Division, Phu Bai, Dong Ha, Quang Tri, I Corps. He is currently a JHS English teacher, and a Quaker.

PETE SWEENEY OF PROSPECT PARK

Who could be happier than Sweeney with the sun
angling in over Farrell's, the first spring
disability check cashed, birds singing and light
lashing off his wheelchair chrome, a beer in a bag
and trucks double parked and everything being delivered

at once? A day for a barber shave and shades,
shades of blue chasing blue, maybe even some blue
shapely thing. And...no physical therapy today,
"except, maybe, in the dark." No one will call
him "challenged," or "handicapped," today.

Most days he will tell you, "I'm a cripple! Spelled
F-U-C-K-E-D! Hell!" Even in payday sun outside
Farrell's, neighbors don't say hello, much less call
him hero. Most don't even look at him. "Hey! Don't
walk by on your two good legs like you don't see me,

like I'm a tree you'd lead your dog from!" He never
panhandles in the neighbood when he's sober. "Hell!
I don't want your fucking pity, but, I mean, like,
this is it, man. This and war stories is all I get.
I mean, like, is that crippling enough, or what?"

---

A WAR STORY

I buried the leg of a guy who walked in
front of me in Vietnam. It came off clean
just below the knee when he stepped on a mine.
It could have been my last step. A poncho

unfurled to shroud remains, that a chopper
carried to safety. A forgotten helmet filled
with rain. It was during the Monsoon season.
The light was never good between the rain and

rain, and the endless lead-gray sky, and night
rose from the forsaken red land like a drowning
tide. We dug in right there, in night and rain.
Rain filled the red-sand hole fast as I could dig

the portentful pool. Then I lay in it.
When the rain subsided, a full moon glowed
dully through the clouds, lighting
our encampment. A few steps from my hole

I saw the leg of the guy who walked before me--
white as Ahab's ivory stump, swaddled in blood-dried
green cloth, black and stiff. What could I do?
I buried his leg in the hole I was in.

I buried the leg of a guy who walked.