Morning in the nail shop,
two Vietnamese women and I
hear a man’s voice drawl
“I want a pedicure, that’s all.”
Men don’t enter here, this world
of polish, lotion – free of fear.
Perhaps we misheard – he repeats it slow
“A pedicure, please, nothing more.”
We avoid each other’s eyes
as he climbs the chair
to perch above the foot bath
a green beret on his unkempt hair.
Is it memory or mercy this veteran seeks or
simply gentle hands on tired feet?
Published on http://www.vietnamwarpoetry.com/cpcynthiamsheward.html