The sniper girl is her favorite role because
it’s like taking pictures. “The beauty, the beauty!”
her voice volleys spookily from behind some rocks
as she picks off one of my men after another.
Sometimes the photographer shoots herself.
I know she must have her own personal baggage—
later I find her sobbing in the bamboo grove.
I tell her it’s O.K., these wars only last three days.
“What will you do when it’s all over?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Plan the next one.”
it’s like taking pictures. “The beauty, the beauty!”
her voice volleys spookily from behind some rocks
as she picks off one of my men after another.
Sometimes the photographer shoots herself.
I know she must have her own personal baggage—
later I find her sobbing in the bamboo grove.
I tell her it’s O.K., these wars only last three days.
“What will you do when it’s all over?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Plan the next one.”
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