In the early days, dinner with my wife was always a treat ... until it was time to pay the bill.
Predictably my wife audited the check and remonstrated about the size of the tip.
"When I drove a taxi, I loved getting a nice tip."
"Nobody tips the nurses!"
(Please dear God! Help me! I've stepped into it again.)
When I was a candy stripper they put a bunch of demented old veterans in the nursing home!
If you got too close they grabbed you.
When they couldn't grab you, they'd throw the bedpans at you!
All hell broke loose when they ran out of cigarettes!
Oh, dear.
Try being the only provider in the Bridgeport ghetto clinic
and having to delouse young teens where the sun doesn't shine.
Ok, dear. I get it (but now I'm gonna play my last card) ... at least they don't shoot at nurses.
Then I remembered a young nurse who sat down with us for breakfast one morning.
I'm just back from Vietnam, she said.
Bet you're glad to be stationed at San Diego.
Yes! I'm headed for the officer's club at Miramar tonight.
That should be fun ...
In ways people can't appreciate unless you've been in the junior officer's club at Subic Bay
with everyone held in reserve for the great battle about to explode,
the Filipino country starts playing Streets of El Paso and
young men turn into horses and riders prancing around the floor in front of the band ...
I feel the bullet go deep in my chest.
From out of nowhere, Felina has found me,
Kissing my cheek as she kneels by my side.
Cradled by two loving arms that I'll die for,
One little kiss and Felina good-bye.
On our battlefield, there'd be no Felina's to comfort the dying
hell sometimes there wouldn't even be a body to comfort.
And the private school, country club kids think life is tough.
