A Beautiful Place

Is it lonely, watching
friends for decades die?

With a wife too young
to understand? A dog
you thought would outlive you,
taken by tumors?

You’ve been touched by poverty,
measles, mumps, an Indiana priest,
war, prison—more
than most men could bear.

Close your eyes. Remember:
you were a child at war.
While the other boys, in their helmets,
stared at Steve McQueen,
watched Bullitt flicker
against a sheet of plywood—
enjoyed brief escape.
Fast cars, Hollywood chases—
Army supplied for one night.

But you—
you were entranced by the South China Sea,
by lush green pressing in
on every side—your favorite color,
the one you carried through war.

You know the face of someone torn apart,
heard the deafening explosions,
the chorus of screams—
yet still, you would not say
you hated all of Vietnam.
It was such a beautiful place.

Perhaps, in this final jungle,
some green remains—
something left
for you to love.