the Mekong

the Mekong was, you know,
once a very dangerous place to go
for the Frenchman and the Japanese
who often got stuck in mud up to their knees.
they were sometimes buried in Chinese lead
when angry bullets struck them in the head;
they'd fall in brown rice water and remain,
spilling conquest fantasies from large holes in their brain.
regardless of the season, the weather was always hot
when the Vietnamese civilians took aim and shot,
not interested in a foreigners' language or school,
with no intention of becoming a mercenaries' tool.
Ho Chi Minh said to fight and fight they earnestly did;
sometimes they'd stand in open defiance and sometimes they hid;
but for years and years they always stood their ground,
until no stranger armies could be found.
even their great Imperial city of Hue was destroyed
by Americans in 1968 who with massive force employed
a relentless bunch of young Marines and destructive artillery shells
so that even today one can walk there quietly and hear the desperate battle yells.
the famous Citadel has been restored, the Perfume River flows without war dead,
and the victor has the final word about what was done and said;
a small piece of southeast Asia with mountains and a long, inviting coast
is today filled with humble people who have no desire to boast.