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Just in Case: a collection of short stories and Haibun.
The Brother I Will Never Know
He never had a name. At least not one you knew of before you left Viet Nam. When the story of your son came up the only names that were mentioned were the derogatory ones she called you in English and Vietnamese when you told her you were being shipped home and she wasn't coming with you. "Da Nang got overrun in '65 a year after I left. Probably didn't survive anyway," you always said. Sentiment for that year was stubbed out long ago the like burned cigarettes that overflowed your ashtray.
war is for action consequences and regret are for death beds