It was a three-day party, slash,
end of the world event,
where all the practice at school
the dropping under the desk
and folding our arms over our heads
was going to save me from an atomic blast.
Must have been the entire crew
that worked with my father,
still dressed in their green,
grease-globbed Air Force fatigues,
sitting in chairs, on the wood railing
and standing on the porch.
America’s well-trained military
armed with longneck bottles,
anti-Russian talk and cross-eyed vigilance,
periodically rushing onto the grass
and scanning the Savannah sky.
“We see one missile and we’ll sink Cuba into the sea!”
Roaring. Cheers. Cursing Khrushchev and Castro.
Me? I was young, but not a fool standing in the open.
I was hanging close to the kitchen,
where I could duck under the table and cover my head.
Steve Meador’s work has been published in Wind, The Yearbook of Modern Poetry, Flutter Poetry Journal, and the Boston Literary Magazine. For the past 25 years he has been a real estate broker in California, Ohio, and Florida. Currently he lives in the Tampa area with his family where he is working on young adult novels.
© 2007 Steve Meador