It's ten o'clock and I'm sticking to my schedule! Yeah, I know it's the first day, but I've never really set a schedule for myself to write before, so I'm considering this an event. Now the trick is to come up with things to write for two hours. So it's time to consult the notes on my phone for some ideas. These are mostly around a year old, so if something is lost in my removal from their original conception, cut me some slack.

Troubles with Chess

Sometimes I think the problem is that you can't decline to move
There's this assumption that movement is progress
And that progress is good.
But if one side is on defense, having established a firm position
Bunkered down behind a line of pawns
To move is to weaken,  and progress leads to death.

Sitting tight is the order of the day
Propped up in dunes, rifles at the almost-ready
Defending the sea of glaring grains behind
While it ungratefully insinuates itself
Into our every orifice.

When we drop our pants, that orifice, too
Is inundated. The reverse-tornado spirals up
Through makeshift bathroom floors
Cool tile but a memory to calloused feet
Now used to sunburn and splinters.
Plumbing no more intricate than the shovel
Propped at the door. Sign reads:
Cover your crap

Binoculars are raised more than rifles
Though each bear witness to the scouring, wind-slung sand.
So, too, do our bodies, micro-scratches on the glass
Of lenses and scopes mirrored in the angry redness
Where the clothing slipped, and once breached,
Rubbed raw against the skin.

We aren't police; every bullet does not require a signature,
Paperwork filled out to reside in metal drawers
In case someone loses count.
No, we fire countless bullets. "Bet you can't hit that can."
And four minutes later there is no can
Just a bunch of bored guys with sandy guns
That still shoot straight.

So here we sit,  shooting the shit,
And shooting at shit
And shitting in holes in the sand.

Poem:
The analogy is one I couldn't help but draw. I don't play chess very much, but something I do remember was, as black, wishing I could just not move and make the opponent come to me. And from what I've seen in movies and such, soldiers in the middle east spent a lot of time waiting for things to happen. Maybe not so much once we took control of places and they were involved in daily policing activities, and it's doubtful that movies get things very right anyway, but when we had/have tons of guys waiting for people in Washington to make up their minds, I imagine them alternating between keeping watch to make sure their base is safe and finding ways to kill time.