A Life Without Guard Rails

You think you got problems?

You probably do but would 

you trade with Phillip,

a Vietnam vet who still thinks 

Agent Orange lurks in 

every puddle he steps 

around after a heavy rain,

who shovels snow, 

cuts lawns and rakes leaves

to make his disability  

check go further?

He has a snow shovel

but someone stole his mower

and the grass is growing

and customers are waiting.

He saved three months

to buy a used car to replace

the van that died and that car 

died yesterday in the street but 

the payments are still due.

Some people think Phillip  

causes his own problems 

but no one has the answer 

as to how he can change 

a life that hasn't changed 

much since Vietnam.

It took ten years 

to qualify for disability.

He’s been doing odd jobs

and he’ll keep doing them 

until he can no longer walk.

He says a Veterans Home

has promised to take him in.

Donal Mahoney

Vacillating Benny and Monsanto Max

Vacillating Benny, an ancient chemist

now retired from Monsanto, must decide 

if a poem his friend Ron has sent him 

is good enough for his hobby journal. 

Benny finally decides to let the poem 

marinate for another month  

without sending Ron a reply.

Maybe it will sound better later on.

A month later, Benny asks his dog, 

Monsanto Max, for an editorial opinion.

Bolstered by his dog's advice,

Benny sends Ron a note:

"I'm considering your poem

and will get back to you later 

with a quasi-final decision."

How might you respond if you were Ron,

a retired professor who wrote his poem 

while teaching English in Vietnam.

Ron decided to send old Benny 

three cases of Dom Perignon,

each bottle filled with Agent Orange. 

Ron hopes Benny will have   

the time he needs to decide if

his poem's worthy of publication.

Ron remembers decades ago

when they were young and in their prime

and his old friend Benny was 

First Vice President at Monsanto. 

Ever decisive, Benny quickly approved  

new applications for Agent Orange.

Donal Mahoney

Allowances Can Be Made

Oliver Jones, now gray and grizzled, has  

cut the Miller's lawn for years. A Vietnam vet, 

a victim of Agent Orange, Oliver's getting old, 

almost as old as the Millers, his friends for years.

Recently he’s left ridges and tufts 

in the lawn Mr. Miller’s eyes can’t see 

but his wife has mentioned the problem.

After Oliver’s been paid with a good tip,

Mrs. Miller often rolls her wheelchair  

over to the window and tells her husband 

they should find someone else to cut the lawn,

someone who won’t leave ridges and tufts. 

But the thing of it is, Oliver’s been leaving

ridges and tufts for at least five years, 

long before Mr. Miller lost his sight and

Mrs. Miller was confined to a wheelchair.

Donal Mahoney

Fireworks after Vietnam

Joe went to the mall yesterday

and found a big tent pitched

at the head of the drive. 

Someone selling fireworks.

The sign said discounts 

for all veterans.  

Joe thought of his brother Bob

after his return from Vietnam,

a victim of Agent Orange.

He would shake if he heard 

sudden or violent noises.  

He got rid of his guns and 

never went hunting again.  

Bob didn’t want rifles 

shot over his body after he died, 

an honor some veterans prefer.  

His wife wanted the ceremony. 

Joe cried when the volleys were fired.  

He could feel his brother 

shake inside the urn.  

Donal Mahoney

Vowel Movement

When a writer lacks 

verbs and nouns 

he's the victim of 

writer's block. 

His mind may house 

too many consonants, 

too few vowels. 

Without vowels, 

his consonants congeal

and become a mass. 

The result is

verbal constipation.

The only cure,

some doctors say,

is a very big 

vowel movement, 

larger than a loaf 

of pumpernickel 

or a Seinfeld 

marble rye.

Some writers, 

desperate for  

a very big

vowel movement, 

try dynamite. 

Not good.

Other writers tout 

Agent Orange,

Monsanto's legacy

in Vietnam 

dropped off

half a century ago.

But Agent Orange

is not the answer 

for writer's block.

It melts a writer 

slowly and melts

as well

generations of 

his descendants

as it has for years  

In Vietnam where

the great-grandchildren 

of innocent farmers

whose crops 

were sprayed

with Agent Orange 

are born deformed.

They are the new lepers 

from Monsanto,

not from Molokai.

On the streets 

the children startle tourists

from Boston and New York

who are munching on 

delightful spring rolls

dipped in lovely sauces

at outdoor cafe tables

under big umbrellas

that ward off 

the burning 

noonday sun. 

Donal Mahoney