Holiday In Virginia Poem by jan oskar hansen

Walking along a country lane in Langley carrying
a bazooka a marshal stopped and offered me a lift,
but since it was a nice day in May, I preferred to
saunter along. But I got tired, left my short range
tubular anti-tank weapon, on the verge of the road
and went into a trucker’s café, ate a burger and
swallowed a six pack of Budweiser, lifted up my
shirt to see if the cans rippled athletically on my
belly, no such luck; the waitress took offence I was
told to leave. A thief had nicked my tubular thing,
with so many agents around, wearing sunglasses,
and pocket radars, stealing ought to be impossible.
I didn’t report the theft though, too many forms to
fill in; bought a Derringer instead, easier to carry.