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November 1992
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Passing Through the Tennis Courts on Campus
I take a stutter-step,
half-halt.
A wire stretches across my path--
filament broken loose from a net.
I step carefully over
not disturbing it
keeping an eye out for more.
The tripwires
and boobytraps
in the stories of the men I've known
mark my landscape.
I have never walked point
on night patrol
never lain in ambush.
This is not a hostile country.
But their stories enfold me,
make my eyes and feet wary
of walking familiar ground.
My own wars have been different,
face to face.
The night the guy grabbed me,
started to pull me into the shadows,
the night the guy tried to get into
my car at a stoplight.
The morning my husband
shoved me into the wall.
It is easier to imagine innocent wires
to be booby traps
than to imagine men passing by
as the enemy.
This is not a hostile country.
Renny Christopher is a Contributing Editor to Viet Nam Generation.
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