HAPPY TRAILS...

HAPPY TRAILS

Night ambushes hurt.

Watching a trail,

fighting sleep

thinking of home, sex

or both,

ignoring mosquitoes feasting on me

is painful.

By the break of dawn,

I was dog-tired,

swollen faced,

stiff jointed from wetness.

I stretched slowly a few times

and was about to stand.

Then,

I spotted your smiling, happy ass

strolling down the trail.

You’d undoubtedly,

spent the night in the village

getting laid,

at least having fun.

Yeah, I was envious,

jealous too,

but neither made me want to kill you.

Hell, you could have looked funny

except my game face was already on.

Your weapon slung across a shoulder

as if not a care in the world.

Where’d you think you were man? Hanoi?

Had it been in your hands,

it wouldn’t have saved you

but things might have felt fairer.

I made eye contact with Lenny,

pointed up the trail,

then at me.

Lenny nodded

before turning to pass it on.

Shit, I could have lit a smoke

or whistled at your silly ass

or stepped out grinning

and watched you dump adrenaline

at being captured.

Basking in the glow of field-grade “atta-boys”

might have added a couple of days,

extremely unpleasant ones,

before the ARVN slit your throat.

As a short-timer

I had few beliefs

beyond something akin to karma.

Accordingly,

I let you savor your thoughts,

albeit your final ones,

till you were close enough to touch.

Nothing personal.

Happy trails, asshole.