From my jeep in a convoy
grinding through the base camp gate
I watched her stoop her shoulders
to match the height of mama-sans in bamboo hats,
pucker her mouth to hide her brilliant teeth
from their beetlenut sneers.
She glares back as if I’d slapped her.
What can I do in the middle of a war
for a beautiful girls who’s
six foot even, Oriental, and black?
She drops her eyes to the dusty road,
caught in a line where guards will feel her up
before she’s free to scrub their clothes.