BILL IN BAGHDAD.

BILL RETURNS TO BAGHDAD ON ANOTHER BLACK OP.

Bill’s been in some crummy
Joints in his time, but this
Dump in Iraq beats all. What
With the smell and the things
That creep out of the wall and

The contact he’s met who has
This quick twitch in the eye.
Why they brought him out of
Retirement, Bill has no real idea;
Except that he knows Iraq inside

Out better than most and has old
Contacts going way back who’ve
Survived old black ops and not
Gone crazy. The place has changed
Since I was here last, Bill muses,

Lighting a cigarette, waiting for
Dunsford, gazing out of the window,
Wondering what the going rate was
For a young man for sex, and what
The op was this time and who’d be

In the firing line. Saddam had gone
Now, outlasted his usefulness, Bill
Muses sardonically, remembering
Meeting him once, thinking how
Easy it would have been to take

Out the old bird even then. But he
Served a purpose back then that
Iraqian Capone. Age was getting
To him now, Bill feels, his bones
Ache, his muscles are not what

They were, although he could still
Kill with his hands, he is slower
Now, less mobile. He thought he
Could retire in peace (as much as
Old agents can) but no, here he is

Again, brought out and dusted off
And set in place. Targets he’d taken
Out, peopled his dreams; even at a
Distance he knew their faces, their
Lives, pasts, children and wives.

Dunsfold was a wank, a new boy.
All mouth, all new ideas. No guts,
No balls, middle class, with Middle
American dreams and fears. Bill
Dreamed of many a time having

His father in his sights, imaginary
Of course, just a thought, a way out
Of anger, a pretend black operation,
To rid himself of childhood frustration.
The old man had gone now, good

Riddance, Bill mutters, inhaling deep,
The cigarette glowing, eyes pinpointing
The scene, Baghdad, others cities, and
Black ops that should not have been.