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      June 1, 2011War Story #133: Helicopter Ride with Cadaver DogPaul David Adkins

      It was hot on the chopper.
      On top of that,
      a cadaver dog sat
      big as Sunday
      beside me.

       

       

      He stared out the glass.
      His tongue unrolled
      like a carpet.
      The handler stroked his ear.

       

       

      Well heeled,
      this dog.

       

       

      I laughed.

       

       

      What I wouldn’t give
      for an open window.

       

       

      The dog leaning into
      ninety-knot breeze,
      barking.

       

       

      Barking his fool head off.

      from #34 - Winter 2010

      Paul David Adkins

      “In a helicopter I dwell on death, no matter the level of danger. I consider off-color distractions to relax. This pooch’s presence was perfect. A body-detecting machine transformed for a minute to a mutt I could play with, toss a ball. Its only tricks—roll over, shake hands, play dead.”

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