the baht bus to Udon Thani

one of my earliest memories was of riding to town,
on the baht bus, a converted truck,
that picked all us poor suckers up,
from our meager village on the fringe,
and took us to Udon Thani,
the regional hub, notable only because,
of the road that was built by the U.S. Army,
and airbase used by the U.S. Air Force.
Bombing runs over Hanoi every day,
the first true taste of modern life for us,
paved roads and electricity,
radios and telephones and running water,
ice boxes and televisions,
in a place that still used water buffoloes,
to plow their rice fields.
I'm a product of that place,
son of an ex-Marine, working for the C.I.A.,
going over to Laos and doing what they say,
bugging every square foot of the U.S. embassy,
trying to trap someone for something I guess,
but met a lady there who would become my mother.
that sunny hot day, with my grandmother at my side,
the baht bus was stopped, by some lumberjacks,
their buddy was stuck under a tree,
after many tense minutes finally freed,
then put into the bus at our feet,
only a few metres away, gasping for air,
bleeding out of every pore it seemed,
but he lay there at our feet,
for the torturous trek to the city,
simple villagers were we,
watching him die at our feet,
I couldn't have been more than four,
but I remember still the sound of death,
gasping and choking with tortured breaths,
body broken and bloodied beyond belief,
when he finally stopped breathing, it was relief.
for him and for us, all of us on the baht bus,
on our way into town, on a merry jaunt,
nothing more, just villagers going shopping,
but I remember the sandals on his feet,
because they left them next to the street,
in a kind of shrine, to remind us that,
we never know when it is our time,
and not living your life is the only true crime.
so seize the day, carpe diem,
for tomorrow my friends,
we know not if we will have the time,
to do what we want before it ends.