by Lawrence Dreyfuss

February 2017

17 years old, marching band.

My snare drum. An instrument so grand

It stands at attention as I practice

The flam, flam accent, flam paradiddle, paradiddle, double paradiddle

Left left right right left,

right right left left right

My muscles growing tight

Wondering how my fundamentals

will prove instrumental

to life after high SCHOO-OL

The snare drum is my crown jewel

No college on the horizon

Fearing my future like a soldier at Brighton

paradiddle, double paradiddle

Left left right right left,

right right left left right

The Marine recruiter shows up to a band meeting

Seating is scarce

trying to muster the inner testosterone to show that band kids are fierce

The Marine band is always looking for bright young musicians

In fact they have open percussion position

The conditions?

Travel the world, practice all day, while getting well paid.

What could go wrong?

2 weeks later I audition and get in,

excited to take my snare from Argentina to Beijing.

Just sign on the dotted line he decrees

I look at the contract and pretend to read

But in my head

paradiddle, double paradiddle

Left left right right left,

right right left left right

And before I know it I’m in the Marines

Sworn in, and uniformed,

and haircut, and shoes shined,

and bed made, and rifle cleaned,

and snare polished, and brothers made,

and basic trained, and far away, and happy.

I’m happy.

We practice 8 hours a day

And then are brought to evaluations where our instructors say

I get a 10 out of 10 in every...

I get a 10 out of 10 in most fields

It feels real, like I have a life

I’m too young for a house and a wife

In Tokyo I fall for a cellist, a Japanese man,

Entangled I forget that there’s no time for this plan

I don’t use any caution

I kind of love watching the way he rosins

Up his bow before he plays

And everything else melts always

My heart goes

paradiddle, double paradiddle

Left left right right left,

right right left left right

I get back late to my barracks

Forget to shine my shoes

Everyone is talking, where was I? What’s the news?

I don’t even hear the planes above my head.

Instead I am wrapped up in my blankets

in my bed.

I wake up late, miss my alarm, sneak into practice what’s the harm?

Wait where is everyone going?

I just started warming up, just started flowing.

And then I see

Time for evaluations.

I hope my shirt is ironed crisply

Why did I have to get frisky

I shouldn’t have had those shots of whisky

It didn’t seem all that risky

I don’t know the music I glance at it briskly

Whisk me away, how does it go?

Para - para -

And then it’s over.

And I didn’t pass

What now?

I’ll keep playing, it’s just one evaluation right?

Basic infantry? No, I have a right...

I signed it away with drums in my head

And now the cellist will never share my bed

I’m shipped to Russia to fight under Vlad

I’m told I’m making president trump very glad

By wearing this uniform as I fight the Ukraine

I’m miserable, I’m cold, and I think it’s starting to rain.

The sun is going down, my officer says advance,

at least I’m warmed by the piss running down my pants

I’m trembling, I’m nervous, I want to go home

I don’t want to be a part of the syndrome

Where the people don’t read the news, or even know why we fight.

If this is my America, then we need to turn on a light.

Not to scream, and shout into the dark but to make real change,

maybe if I get out this I’ll run for office, wouldn’t that be strange?

As the bullets start to fly, streaks of light pass my eyes,

a tear rolls down I’m starting to cry.

But I can’t turn back, I’m surrounded...by boys

Like a toy soldier, powerful men’s toys.

And I trust my feet.

And I close my eyes.

And I am driven forward by those terrible notes

paradiddle, double paradiddle

Left left right right left,

right right left left right