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Edited on Sat Jan-31-04 11:28 AM by markses
One month from today, there will be 35-40 (and maybe more) American soldiers - young men and women in their prime of life, healthy, with families, friends and colleagues, full of love and laughter - who will be dead. Dead. Because of this war. Almost a guarantee at this point. These will be the February dead - the first February dead, and one can only hope the only February dead.
Think of them now, nervously fingering a trigger, or relaxing on a berm, or playing soccer with some kids, or reading a magazine. See them sitting in their cots, or scanning the deadly horizon, or writing a letter. They will be dead before the end of the month. LOOK INTO THEIR FACES. That's a sad vision, indeed.
The motherfucker hasn't scarfed them up yet, so their eyes still light up the desert, their boots still mark the city streets with a history of movement. But the motherfucker has its days and nights, its hours and its averages. The motherfucker says one thing:
TIME IS ON MY SIDE.
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