She came in the rain
Offering a ride,
Hair wet,
Dressed the day I left for Vietnam.
“I’ve been expecting you.”
I got in.
We drove on
Smoked cigarettes.
Someone in the back
Was sleeping.
She stopped outside the apartment
And grabbed my wrist.
“The thirteenth part is as it is said.”
I pulled away.
She tightened her grip
And sobbed “Borgo.”
Charlie Jacobson
The writer is a vet with an abiding interest in philosophy and the arts, and lives in Alton, Illinois, with a cat who doesn’t like him. His stories and poems can be found in twenty publications, radio and Story Collider. blog: https://storeeze.blogspot.com/
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