a poem in my pocket

snoopy as flying ace

the world war one
flying ace sits at a
table in local pub
drinking root beer

when the ominous
drone of an enemy air-
craft sounds overhead.

pulling down goggles
and wrapping on scarf,
he hops onto trusty
sopwith camel—

“curse you, red baron!”

Posting as my response to De at dVerse poets with quadrille prompt on word: “ace”