so long larry. so long ago.
40 years ago. in that hazy time.
when you were 20, we needed you to fight cong.
when you were 30, we needed you to carry boxes.
now that we don’t need you, so long larry, so long, Costa.
hope someone remembers better, what you did so long ago.

We are posed, at Fort Bragg, ready to leave; certified fit for combat.
I don’t know any of these people now, not that I knew them much back then, our summer of blood.
I never kept in touch. Never felt that touched. Never felt connected to war, to warriors, to that band of others.
What I have is an old color photograph, made by the base photographer. One group picture of thousands made, stored. Some may be displayed in a case alongside a folded flag, maybe a box with a medal. Mine has traveled and nagged me for too many years. Of all the things I’ve lost. All the things I’ve tossed out or left behind, I don’t know why, what weak part of me, keeps this fading picture, still in its rubber stamped folder.
Evidence, of what, for whom…. maybe me, maybe not.