if hanoi was here
even closer than near, then
the fragrant lime and basil puddles
of pho pots and leftover war spots,
the gioconda smile
of el ho che minh
makes a motor-scooter square
suddenly seem more revolutionary.
they say he was a cook in paris
and a passenger on a tramp steamer
sometimes the fathers of great nations
don't have to own
a new beamer.
if hanoi was here
even closer than near, then
the red-stucco colonial scraps
of civet coffee and lotuses blooming softly,
the braggadacio plaque
where mccain took his last dive
making a light-drizzle lake
suddenly seem more like victory.
they say he felt no remorse at all
and was tortured gently in his cell
sometimes the figureheads of falling empires
believe firmly that
they won't burn in hell.
if hanoi was here,
even closer than near, then
it would be a formica-top beer
as ao dai beauties float past
on clouds puffing of chinese cigarettes
yet another picture
of ho chi minh
filling my skyline with
all the things
that history could bear.
