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​Red and Green


Victor’s wheeling out Eddie, so he can scream again
It happens
Nobody in the building pays attention any more
In public housing you take the good with the bad

Tonight we’re having a Holiday party in the rec room
Eddie was out circling the perimeter
In his worn out army jacket and boots
Some bold person, probably too old to be scared
Put a Santa cap on him, now matted with beer

Tenants have been putting well-wishes on the tree
But Eddie never goes near it, and nobody expects him to
We notice he stays clear of the little cluster of rubber plants too

Sometimes management takes us on outings, and Eddie goes now and then
On July fourth we all went to the park to hear the concert
But when the fireworks started, he asked me to put him on the bus

Now there’s a lot of laughing in the rec room
And that’s when the screaming started
Victor takes him outside where it’s dark
Away from the red and green of our party
Just by the door where Victor can watch who comes in
And Eddie can watch everybody

There’s old Lenny coming down with clothing 
He opens the donation box and tries to ignore the uproar
He then hears the laughing and looks at the Christmas tree
Keeping one hunting jacket out, he goes outside
And hands the present to Eddie 
“Help me up Victor,” says Eddie, and Victor lifts him up by his armpits

Making sure he doesn’t harm the badge on Victor’s uniform
Eddie salutes Lenny, and finds a salute in kind
Then Lenny goes to the party, stopping to put something on the tree


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Author's Note: The following poem is based on the true story of my father. Born in 1924, Morton Kurtz did in fact serve in uniform in World War II, but while stateside in medical school. The Army Specialized Training Program ASTP let med students graduate but had 10 years in which to call them up again. So, the Korean War came calling. My father tended to the radar workers in Alaska.

Out of Fuel
(For my father, Dr./Captain Morton Kurtz)

You get a sense when something is wrong with a plane
It’s the sound the engines make
And they are making it now
Now, of all times, when their medevac from Tokyo
Is en route to Elmandorf base in Anchorage
Where a proper ER waits to operate on the injured of Korea
But now the plane is sick

“Why is the plane descending, Doctor?”
“Don’t worry, soldier; we’re getting you home.”
But Lieutenant Mort Kurtz knows what Coming Home might mean

A nurse looks out the window toward the ground
All she sees are snowflakes, which is pretty much what Kamchatka is
If they landed in all that white, this plane would be their civilization

The captain’s mate comes back: “Prepare for landing.”
Lieutenant Kurtz holds his hands over his gut patient
“Landing gear down, down, good”
“Soft, soft, steady…down, thank you.”

“Is anyone hurt…I mean hurt more?”
“No, Captain,” they answer the pilot
“Looks like we’re here by our lonesome, docs.
Please triage, while the co-pilot and I get out the diesel canisters.”
“You mean we’re here because we ran out of gas?”
“Yes, Lieutenant Kurtz; that’s the poop.”

With firm ground beneath them the doctors can do more
…can suture and set, clean and cut
Until they can take off for Anchorage again
Soon that triumph comes

In time Lieutenant Kurtz would know huge medical centers 
And rub elbows with the A.M.A. big wheels
And leave his mark on cities around the world
But in Kamchatka two ruts are still there on 
A God-forsaken field…never disturbed, never visited