Sunday, August 03, 2008

Wild Weasel

I'm being painted. I can see it. I can tell. I can feel it. In all the obvious ways to someone that is aware of all those obvious ways, however subtle to most.

To the Star I will say, "I have the star"! Not much you can do now other then fire or shutdown right? But whatever the case, I'm an old hand at this game. With twice as much flight time as you have life time, it's not really a fair match anyway is it?

I suspect the smirk on my face says it all. The obvious pleasure of gravity and target acquisition. The smile of an old sly fox when he's realized the battle is won. That a desired and cherished objective is nigh on completion.

But whatever. I'm wings level and on the deck. RTB with the can lit. Moments back, I looked you right in the eye, that gorgeous dish lively and ever tracking. Both of us with a lock on the other. Today wasn't the day, but we know it's soon. It will no doubt be when that interloping superiour of your's is on leave. And on that day, it's all about HARM. But for now, I'm still that target you know you wish to down and embrace, in spite of rank, position, or country. The roar of my "Thud" echoing in the chambers of your heart.

Yeah, that day is soon.

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