The first time I saw
a preschool kid
(Do they have schools here?)
smoking a cigarette I
just stood and stared

Mama-sans squatting
to pee along the road
never drew a second glance
But a child casually smoking
was hard for me to unsee

For a month I had a
reoccurring dream of
a smoking toddler a
circus performer eating glass
and a ward filled with

Thalidomide babies
But after about
four weeks the dream
became a memory of
a dream of a memory

‘Eating Glass’ can be found in Bill’s poetry book, The Smell of Light, taken from letters he wrote home from Vietnam and can be found here.