Non-Erotic PoetryStrawberries and CreamMy childhood was Viet Nam. The killing of women
and children. The incessant media coverage like small town gossip. Small town gossip like napalm and rice paddies. Intermittent bombings. Constant hunker and cover. No sleep. Our men are not frightened to fuck with mortar fire, not July fireworks, looming. Between my thighs an explosion of flesh and nerves. Bodies
everywhere. Pieces of men and women.
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