On Leave, Fall – 1968

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By Dianne Moritz

I fly to San Francisco. The boy who left me wants to rendezvous before he ships out to Vietnam.

We play tourists: Highway 1, Carmel, Big Sur. He’s nervous, wary, but the heat’s still there. We stop for a quickie.

He wants more, so we head back north, buy some cheap Gallo, rent a room, drink too much. Soon he’s slurring words: jungles, gooks, bullets, body bags. “Hush, now, I say,” and cuddle in his trained killer arms.

Still, his good-bye is cool. He turns away fast. I watch him disappear into the crowd … like army issue camouflage.

         
Dianne Moritz enjoys capturing brief moments in time, celebrating trials, tribulations, and beauty of life. She dreams of publishing a book of all her drabble.

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