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