listening for an encore

Sydney, Australia

and the opera house
at dawn
was singing 'Good Day' to a
regatta of sailboats
which i saw and heard
while walking to the famous bridge
out of my way
but not too far
at the end of the summer of
1970.
for nearly a month
i waited for my flight from
Saigon;
in spite of everything,
i was able to board,
and on landing,
the Aussie girls were waiting
after i cleared Customs and
found my army duffle,
their big round eyes shining
brightly in fresh happy faces.
they waited to dine and dance,
to walk and talk,
to peek and probe,
to be close to me, to touch.
did i ever say how much
it meant?

war and peace, so close together.
and in the crisp springtime, future months away,
with the opera house filled with song,
the evening harbor aglow with lights, sails and stories,
i'd be dug in under a misty jungle canopy
far to the north,
listening for an encore.