Pixilated war, And out in the real fields Insurgents rally against Tin men and robotic dogs. Death from above, Artillery & first-person drones. I sip an energy drink In 60° AC Fahrenheit weather, I don't stop to think As to if orders deserve questions And whether I would be satisfied with answers. They don't have drafts, We have programs & apps To pilot steel fellas. Suppress, eliminate, rescue, Some of them even punch up the graphics. Last week, I traipsed through The inhospitable Arabian Desert, Many decades ago rendered entirely uninhabitable, To help diplomats involved in a helicopter crash. The day after that, I was in the snowy north Fighting red droids. And soon after, On an island in the Pacific Defending from adversarial users. I must have died 10,000 times. And from what I hear on the news We make advances only to be set back, And vice versa, But it's been seventeen good years Going back & forth. I don't know if I can recall what we're fighting over.