And, alone in his boat
He was alert, in love, and erect
But even these distractions
Were not enough to keep him from noticing
The microbubbles from beneath his boat
As if he had paused upon a passage of dark club soda
Keeping the binoculars still on his face
And the sat-phone against his ear
He pulled a frag grenade from his belt with his left hand
And pulled the pin with his teeth
He let the lever flap open
There was no panic while he counted
Four. Three. Two. One.
He dropped the frag casually from the side of the boat into the water
He knew that if he timed it incorrectly
He would likely be wounded or killed
But all worthy risk required sacrifice
Especially if there was the possibility of establishing a connection of particular import
That was why the admiral seemed immortal
And even after tonight
The stories of an entire Seal Team being neutralized
In a filthy San Gabriel Valley reservoir
Would resonate from intelligence portals
On all continents
And other parts of the planet
And the Admiral would calmly dock
And meet his love
While together they would unwire the trout, killing them
And fully destroy the altered fish bodies
Keeping themselves warmed
By a fire fueled by the books of Dan Brown
No comments:
Post a Comment
Your comments are moderated and must include at least one reference to the water miners.