Monday, June 13, 2016
about to...
“We, who are about to die, salute you!”
From Bellefleur, who could be scathing and
loyal at once.
“Let’s not anyone die!” I admonished him.
"We’ve trained for this!"
But it was pretty much a suicide mission.
He complained at the meeting to which I
and Associate Commander, Rendon,
were not invited.
Too ethnic for our tastes. Massively emotional,
and real tears when Marins went on about not
seeing his little daughter again.
The more complex Bellefleur persevered about
missing his slick litle Audi. He made its redness
poetic.
We knew these things because the secret meeting
is secretly recorded.
The following Four AM, Tellemon, the Afro,
laughed “A black man putting on blackface,
to advance the racist state!”
My Associate Commander ordered him to stop.
It came to me to tell him that next time he should
join the Army of Utopia, if he wanted purity.
My job was to treat him decently, and he admitted
that I had.
Well, off! Rendon and I resembling complacent larks.
Our happiest time!
Officers of our responsibility have never been killed.
Some Angels protect us.
I see them with wings enwrapping each of us upon the terrible battlefield.
While troopers walk past towards a blaze.
Labels: army, emotional, ethnic, loyalty, officer class, suicide mission, troopers
