War Poet.ca - A CFAP Project by Suzanne Steele


when you go outside the wire
go with rolling replen,
armoured, tanked, diesel-brimmed,
fear-less drivers,
they sit atop four thousand oily litres
of snap, crackle, pop,

refuelers stop for no one, nothing,
not goats, nor jingle trucks,
traffic jams in Kandarhar don’t exist,
they put their BFTs in gear and roll
know that if they go
they go big, really big,
sky-frigging-high technicolour kaboom,
put on a badass mother-fucker show,
know they won’t feel a thing.

when you go outside the wire
go with rolling replen
you’ve a 99.99% chance of coming home
in more than one piece,
and besides,
they tell really good jokes,
listen to music so loud
in their über-armoured metal cloud
that when they hit an IED
someone from behind has to radio them
tell them they’ve had contact,
and they shrug, keep rolling,
keep doing the job, whatever.

About This Page

The page you're reading contains a single diary entry entitled refuelers. It was posted here on May 07, 2010.


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