By Jimmy Boom Semtex
Downwards
Every time I think of North American P-51 Mustangs, I think of Sunny 8 crash.
How I must go there to pay my respects. I think of the Mustang replica I saw crash at Barton air show in 1983 killing the pilot.
I think of how I saw 2 Mustangs soar up into the clouds like homesick angels in 2006 at Southend air show and how I was rather upset at feelings I can't describe.
How the woman I was with was a only girl and she just didn't (and never would understand) how I felt.
I don't miss her.
Further down the coast, a Mustang is in the sand, with half a pilot.
Last missing American serviceman in the UK.
They only recovered part of him.
I think of the black pilots who everyone wrote off, they escorted the heavies and never lost a bomber to the Nazis.
They were the Tuskegee airmen.
I think of how I finally met a gal who is a woman and how we both briefly saw a Mustang plane at the museum in Manila.
Her being there meant so much.
She understood.
And above all, to me, the Mustang fighter means freedom to me.
And makes me feel things I struggle to understand or describe to you. I like the H version the best.
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