Vietnam threatened like a cobra
coiled in a basket. We had no skills 
or balance. Rebellion
 
was my signature or so I thought.
No pristine porcelain wedding dress
with satin heels or sparkling tiara.
 
I got married in red velvet, wore hiking
boots at my reception. The soundtrack
was scratchy – rock & raunchy blues.
 
Failed companionships swallowed
my red & purple, my Van Gogh
patterns of starlight & yellow.
 
Years pass like torrents of mud.
Sometimes I regret the blunders,
missed steps & lost vows. 
 
But however hapless or brief,
I still prefer the attempt
to tether to orchid or root.