Desert Fox Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

I am like Rommel.
The desert fox
who ended up
as fall guy in the war
between the vanity
of Adolf Hitler
and the necessity
to let the masses
eat sausages
and drive the new
and fancy People's Car.

The reasons for
a similarity
that may be obvious
to no one but myself
remain a closely
and forever
guarded secret,
I say Basta
to the peasants
and the vultures
who had me covered
on the ground
and from the air.
You've been disabled
and squashed
like one of those
let's say those pesky
useless and recalcitrant
and smelly bastards
of chitin and of crap
and no significance.

I fry my egg now
on metal made by Krupp
extremely heated,
and wipe the sweat
of desert thoughts
off weary bones.
The biggest battle
one which will
without a doubt
decide the fate
of all the deserts
and all people
is yet to come.