The Gazala Gallop

Best get back to the coast,
shorten the supply lines,
the smoking van,
inspected for code books,
food,
half finished La Croix.

How could I know what's rock bottom?
You keep on kidding,
a joke in distended belligerence,
it disarms again and again.

There are boils to be lanced,
your jokes as arms,
flapping at steam
that could bring them to term.