Phil
Â
P.S. My M-16âs chipped, cracked,
metal parts worn through the bluing,
cuz it never leaves my side.
P.P.S. .45 is rusted shut.
Yo-yo can still walk-the-dog though.
Don
Dearest Cheryl,
Â
DONâT TEAR THIS UP!!! PLEASE!!!
Â
Iâll do anything if youâll just forgive me.
Anything. Iâm on my knees, begging, please ,
I love you so much I canât eat or sleep.
All I think about is holding you.
Â
I look for you everyday before and after school,
between classes, during nutrition at lunch.
Guess youâve been cutting Hawesâs class,
and using someone elseâs locker.
Has your mom told you I called?
About a million times!
Â
PLEASE CALL ME!!!
Â
I love you more today than ever, Don
Â
P.S. Are you still pen pals with Mick & Phil?
P.P.S. I got that job at the club. $1.25 an hour.
Cheryl
Love is like sticking
your car keys in a pocket with
your sunglasses and thinking
your glasses wonât get scratched.
Phil
2 a.m. December 1
Â
Me and Gunther have guard duty in the
tower, a mini-hooch without the screen.
Â
A 20-foot high platform,
Permanent Target Duty.
Â
Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!
Â
Mortars propel from some gook hooch.
Iâve got my buddy Blooper, an M-79 grenade launcher,
like a large bore, single barrel, sawn-off shotgun.
Â
Our Xmas toys light up everything, moving or not.
M-18 Claymore minesâ front toward enemy â
steel ball bearing shrapnel. Fugas. Trip flares.
Illumination flares, mini-chutes raining light.
Tracer rounds, ribbons of chrome-orange metal.
Â
Hueys roll in.
Fighter pilots in helmets, shorts, zoris.
Annihilate the place. Rat-a-tat-tat.
Â
Chaos.
Silent night, holy night.
Destruction.
All is calm, all is bright.
Extermination.
Sleep in heavenly peace.
Â
Bits of beauty everywhere.
Cheryl
Stable horses, $2.50 an hour.
Â
I broke all the rules, galloped
soon as I left the barn,
Â
like dancing to âHang on Sloopy,â
naked,
Â
free.
Ziggy
Bubba dropped me at Hughes Market
with a list:
Â
Crispy Critters
Ding Dongs
Potato Crisps
Sweet Tarts
Dr. Pepper
Â
Wheeling through produce, I see
Cherylâs mom thumping cantaloupes.
Her cart cradles chickens, carrots, squashâ
nothing in a can or a box.
Â
âZiggy!â she says, rushing over.
âWhereâve you been?â
Â
I self-destruct on the spot.
Phil
I keep having this dream.
A short, sharp sound.
Â
Click!
Â
When I turn, a squat brown boy
jabs a gun in my gut.
Â
Click! Click!
Â
He swings the butt at my head.
I empty a clip in his face.
Â
Bones fly. Chip by chip.
A tooth.
Â
Another round of shoot-a-gook.
Â
I wake up sweatinâ blood.
Â
God forgive us.
Mickey
USS Hermitage LSD-34 Somewhere Over the Rainbow
Â
Dear Cheryl,
Â
Whatâs the haps?
Â
Thought Iâd send you some stuff
I picked up on my travels.
Hope you like the poem about Santa Claus.
Â
Guess what? I qualified for Heads Helmsman.
(Thatâs the guy who steers the ship.)
Â
Whenever we go through shallow water
Iâll be called up to steer.
I have to know everything about the Pilot House.
If I make one mistake
I could run aground or into another ship.
Â
I canât believe theyâd give me so much
responsibility.
Â
Later, Mickey
Â
P.S. Last night I stepped into a card game
and walked out with $54.
Cheryl
Yesterday, I showed my mom the short story
I wrote as a makeup for Ms. Hawesâs class
about a girl who stops taking crap from guys.
Â
I got a dollar for my A.
Â
This morning, Nuts & Chews set a gold
foil box on my place mat. Neatly folded
inside, an olive-green mohair sweater.
Cardigan, my size.
Â
I think Momâs and my story will
have a happy ending, after all.
Â
His name is Lou.
Ziggy
Imagine a family that chops, cooks,
eats their meals together?
Â
Maybe Iâll bake a cake today.
Â
Angel or
James Grippando
Jaye Robin Brown
Marybeth Whalen
Alicia Street, Roy Street
Lacey Alexander
Frederick Rebsamen
Louise M. Gouge
Rachel Caine
Angeline Kace
Dave Donovan