Terra satellite shows the Caspian,
my old friend, black as thick oil beneath it.
But I must focus now on this crimson
speck by Turkmenistan’s shore. Rebels hit
an oil derrick west of Halliburton’s
marine base. In a jiff I’ll home in tight
on the chalk-brown earth beneath thin curtains
of clouds, measure my laser’s pinpoint sight,
hook up with those secret jets just off shore.
Missiles will blast rebs like our Afghan strike
in ’98 that shut Taliban’s door
to a pipeline. Soon we’ll fire away like
clockwork—when we get the call—at Iran,
making lava of its nuclear plants.
Roger Armbrust
June 14, 2007
