And she worked for the VC
Except on Thursdays
When she had piano.
My unit passed through
What used to be Tran's village
And our eyes locked
Over the mass grave.
We ate our rice
At our secret place,
Alone,
In the DMZ.
We fought all night
Over which china pattern we'd pick,
Back in the world.
She was my girl,
And Charlie's best and boldest sniper,
Who I could never find--wink, wink--
On my patrols.
She broke my heart
With a bullet from her rifle,
When I forgot to wear my top hat,
Our secret signal.
And then dear Tran,
Fearing me dead by her hand,
Threw herself on a Chinese-Cuban grenade,
Made in Russia.
These days
I miss the smile on Tran's face,
Which I later found in the tall grass,
Next to her foot.