Saturday, February 12, 2011

Memories from the 60's

Companion pieces. The last one written four days before the first.
















Close Encounter

Her name was Emily, his was Joe
they met at a friend’s engagement party

He stood in his military uniform
she in a summer dress with spaghetti straps

He edged closer to introduce himself
she stiffened at his interest

until she saw his eyes and recognized
the boy wrapped up as a marine

In no time the conversation flowed
laughter punctuated each revelation

nighttime turned to day
but the conversation didn’t stop

Went for breakfast at the local coffee shop
morning light didn’t fade their glow

fingertips touched then they kissed
open mouth and passionate

He said he was leaving for Vietnam
and would she marry him before he left?

She said no, but would write to him every day
and wait for him to come back home

He held her in his arms
until the sergeant said it was time to go.

















Precious Gift
You showed me his gift
a ball point pen with a little light in it
so he could write letters in his tent
after the daily rounds of patrols
and open conflicts in the jungles of Vietnam.

During the monsoons or after the sun set
when thoughts of you filled his head
he could make love to you with his words
or tell you plans he wanted for your future;
meeting his folks, a wedding, new car, kids,
that little house with a picket fence.

I watched you wrap his gift
with brown paper from a grocery sack,
printing his address in large block letters
placing scarlet kisses beside his name
then sending it off with enough time
to arrive before his nineteenth birthday.

I hadn’t seen you for several days
and when I went to your house
I found you disheveled and tear stained
the gift unopened lay beside you
with scribbled words, “Undeliverable
then rubber stamped, Return to Sender."

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