Sergio Ortiz
	Marullo     I saw the arm and a gun, abandoned waves pushing me against the rail on the stairs.   Then he yanked my hair, unbuckled my jeans, put the Magnum on my face. I thought I saw myself tighten as he pulled the trigger, but he said: Close your eyes, be still, and don't say a word!   The fool, I was already talking to the moon suspended over sand, water, and fish kettles. On Leave-1968 We waited for the sun to walk away the shadows. I sat on his lap, wrinkled the khaki fresh out of Vietnam. The kisses had me thinking it could be more than a night in the bleachers. But then again, I don't go to funerals, or let boys tie me to motel beds as if they were drill sergeants training troops to forget the gore.