Lieu
by Mike Marcellino
South Vietnam, 1967.
Silly beginning, careless ending
lizards clung to the dim lit wall.
Thomas and i met her at Sherwood
Forest ,
the nightclub,
smiling at us over beer,
fries
and a now and then
In a
sputtering
Honda 90
humanly propelled
by a papa-san
pimp,
I rode through
hit and miss,
foot, leg, peddle-powered
traffic -
darkness after curfew
riding in the close warm
black night.
Teaming, steaming
from the Tahiti ,
20 century
brick-fronted
same on the inside
hotel.
While Thomas
worried,
tripping
i shivered
(not really).
Inside outside
perfect night for baseball.
Lieu
dug store bought;
i read her scrolling
on a crumpled
piece of
paper
light brown
one six four and one-half
some street.
Self-conscious me
in Bermuda shorts,
naked legs
walking down winding back alleys
to find Lieu
and ma-muc.
Ma-muc
-burnt red stained beetle nut chew
in her mouth
bulging,
crushed
by an earthen
ceramic set.
ma muc
who smiles,
giggles -
Lieu’s ma ma san mother.
Her daughter came
home
happy
made me eat
gobbling hers.
Lieu,
and ma-muc
grabbing my leg hair,
giggling.
First joy of waiting,
simple thing
so tense
exciting -
Showering from
body tall vases
in the corner
morning after
love, her
surfer t-shirt mini on.
Lieu laughed,
cried,
gave
really.
Maybe she loves
someone
else
tonight.
Her oily
brown face,
round, dark eyes
long, straight black hair.
Not a fair maiden,
but no whore.
Copyright Mike Marcellino, 2007
