Wednesday, February 26, 2014
"When he left the ruins of the village and rode back on the 10-ton thunder truck mounted with a quad-50 machine gun, the truck went up along the Trẹm River. In the bright morning the deep green of cajeput was breathtaking, the river white with water lilies along the edge of the riverbank, and the scents of water lily flowers perfumed the air. He watched the river go by and couldn’t make sense of what had happened. It did not add up. He watched the storks taking flight from the river, going, going until they reached their roosts in a cajput grove beyond, and he thought of a home with her.
Then he started crying."
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Friday, February 21, 2014
Thursday, February 20, 2014
remembered the wedding picture Uncle
sent home when I was in high school. The woman in the wedding portrait shone with a such a ravishing elegance that I fell in love with
the bride in the photograph. In it
looked much older than his bride. Handsome, yes, but stodgy. He could have been her uncle as well as mine. What had she found
in him that led her to say I do?"
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Monday, February 10, 2014
"Denise’s head tilted to one side on the pillow and she was breathing steadily. Her platinum hair shimmered in the reflection of the light.
What I had told her about the massacre in Huế left an echo in my head. Fifteen years had passed. In this country, you don’t see the gunships, the Skyraiders roaring every time you look up the sky. At night you don’t hear the cannon booming in the distance, an AK-47 crackling down the street. The night flows into morning without curfew."
Monday, February 3, 2014
"From inside the shack Ian waited until Sarge moved on. Those bear-like deliberate brisk steps. Ian sighed. If he hadn’t met Little Mouse, if he hadn’t sat in that card game, if he hadn’t pawned that Zippo . . .
Good thing Sarge didn’t use his Zippo. Good thing Little Mouse didn’t see it."