I do not know the language of Pashtuns
Nor can I hum Afghanistani tunes
I’m also insufficient in Urdu
With towel-heads I don’t know who is who
Have never ever opened a Koran
The Arab tongue is stranger than FORTRAN
I live in forts behind high wire rolls
And venture forth from there pursuing goals—
The nation-building, military kind—
While satellites guard my exposed behind.
But Taliban are growing stronger still
They’re there and peer at me from every hill.
The answer to this little prob might be:
Send forty thou more of the likes of me.
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