Blistering light races down on a rough and cracked ground
Heat pushes back against the hairs on his freckled arm
Johnny swivels his head while his APC moves through the desert
His ears alert to the unheard sounds of enemy fire.
Just now a nearby tank launched two rounds
Against a target over the horizon, further than Johnny
Can see but from the cheers he understands that the
Target was hit and destroyed.
A reporter sitting near him outs down a few hasty notes
Looks up and around for a few beats, puts his pen back to paper
Johnny doesn’t worry about what the man writes,
Only that he gets home with all his arms and legs intact.
Home, that faraway place where a pretty girl waits for him
Home, where he played basketball in the winter, soccer in summer
Home, with his nice warm bed and eggs for breakfast that
Don’t get cooked by adding boiling water.
Johnny has yet to see an enemy combatant though he did meet
Two guys from Liverpool, UK Marines, while standing and waiting
In Camp New Jersey, amid the nasty dust storms, and found
They too were Knicks fans and LFC supporters.
Bouncing along at 40 or 50 klicks an hour, Johnny’s division
Is eating up the dust so fast and sooner than anyone expects
They will arrive outside of Baghdad, dismount and assault
Johnny only hopes his camo and gun will protect him.
The LT taps him on the shoulder and points out into the distance
Where a flock of birds is flying past the end of the line of trucks,
Tanks, and helicopters of Johnny’s group force, barely visible
Past this force that stretches off into infinity, flapping their wings.
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