Bang

I’m sitting in the bar still thinking about Vietnam. Why, I don’t know. All I remember is how cold and wet it was in February, and the mud too–how it clung to my boots–weighed heavy. I suppose Vietnam is a little like these words: something I can’t explain.

Every now and then I think of V. Those eyes; that smile; the energy; the naked intelligence; but most of all, never being able to have her, just mine alone and forever.

Somebody drops a bottle of beer on the floor. Bang, I’m back in Vietnam.

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Published in: on February 10, 2008 at 2:03 am  Leave a Comment  

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