Shock and Awe

Sat in the back of the break room at work and noticed my co-workers engaged

I was court-side the entire night on an Abrams
pursuing sleep and analyzing,
if that cocky moustache had mouseholed away
from two thousand pounds of satellite guidance.
I did a replay of that ''Hot Shots'' scene
of his big gut catching it; oooooohh-
note, not aaow but oooowwhh (for all them virgins).
Nearly ripped a nail in my Playoffs' #1 sign
when those Marines aawed the crowd at Uum Qsr
and going duuuh that those bleepin white flags
aren't calling proper rules of war

(and, why the hell didn't Pierre Buyoya go oowh too?)--sshh!
Then they reached Baghdad.

The sandstorms, stopped.
Briefings, stopped.
Computer maps, stopped

All that was left, was a few fatigued detectives,
and some rowdy bar-bums, savoring the win,
while tearing down a statue of Madass. So,
I put away the chips and found my way back to MTV.

kc