cordite

that’s the smell

monks

ringing buddhist bells

rifles

loud in my ears

saigon

longing for a beer

enemies?

now what does that mean?

thinking

girl in a magazine

huts

low by jungle water

no

letters mother or father

women

old and young

is

that her with a gun?

hating

everything I did

thinking

back to when I was a kid

homesick

nothing else to say

wishing

I didn’t have to stay

children

little and so dead

old

man sick in his bed

insane

this entire fucking war

useless

generals minding the store

gunfire

hit me very hard

bleeding

played my last card