Violent agreement

by Lawrence J. J. Leonard

Enthusiastic, old guard colleagues
filled the conference hall.

This was the day their net worth
skyrocketed from simple investment to pre-bubble proportions.

It was a golden year for the newly elected
who never counted on the good fortune of inside information.

A rare moment of quiet honesty
from the leadership team.

What a great world they said it could be
if they could just stick together.

The staff began dreaming of long vacations
and their spouses wondered if it was all too good.

At the end of the holiday season they patted their own backs
as the new year kicked into drive on a high note.

Meanwhile, tangible boots on the ground was the key to success
while the field offices got their ammunition orders fulfilled.

Soon the tanks rolled up the highway
with mechanical centipedes of troop carriers in the wake.

Hey, this looks like my uncle’s hometown
some commented and pointed from furrowed brows.

We’ve been ordered to evacuate the area, said their commanders,
meaning everybody must be pushed out of the target town.

The commanders spoke as if in a war zone
but Montana and Texas and Arkansas were hardly that.

Just do what you are told, they demanded,
and we can be finished and go back home.

This IS OUR home you @$$hole, yelled two of the soldiers.
What happened next was by violent agreement.

The doors opened, the deliberate troops jumped out,
columns of tanks rotated, powered down then turned off.

Rows and rows of soldiers lined the highway
standing shoulder to shoulder along the east ditch.

We did not join up to croak our own, they yelled
while pointing their rifles at the command squad.

Not much of a Mexican standoff when your cannons
are being used for footstools, spit the drivers.

The mobile news was disturbing, showing film of troops
storming streets in deserted burgs and villas.

Training exercises from five years ago, laughed the sergeants
and they shared their disbelief through their cell phones.

Hundreds called their loved ones
but not one picked up,
and that’s when it hit the fan.

Copyright © 1960-2017 Lawrence J. J. Leonard All rights reserved.

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