a small price
by Mark Robinett

She was the daughter of a high school friend.
A good friend in the days when Viet Nam
hovered like an uninvited guest
at the outskirts of every young man's life.
of every young boy's life.

I never met her. Never saw her. Didn't know her.
Just her mom and dad when they were teens.

They liked her I'm told.

Like her mom and dad, she married young.
Unlike her dad, he fought in Viet Nam.
Or what some call Iraq.

Unlike her dad, he's gone.

You could say it was a small price he paid.
A small price we paid
to keep our trucks and cars rolling across
the plains,
the mountains, and
town at nine and five.

A small price, him being gone.

And her.

It's not like they had kids. Just each a mom
and dad,
no longer teens.

Copyright © 2007 - Mark Robinett
Published: 10/4/07   ·  Author's Page   ·  Next Poem