A narrative poem about a
It was dusk and sure, we were tired. Just kids, they said.
We sat around the kitchen table, weary
after skiing all day and walking home in
heavy boots, skis and poles hefted on shoulders and
almost empty knapsacks slung over aching arms. Perhaps
we were affected by some brandy we pretended
we didn’t drink or possess but that was
and our heads were clear. Clearer than those
who had wisdom with age.
Whatever it was, it flew. It hovered and
Don’t cause trouble, we were told. We weren’t
afraid, we said. It didn’t scare us, we said, and
You don’t either.
The back yard was lit up by a January full moon.
Sheriff said It was a weather balloon.
He smoked cigarette after cigarette and
tapped the red formica with his pointer finger
every time he talked. Our feet itched
from woolen socks and our joints ached from
all day up in the valley.
It was a flash over our heads and then it
like it was looking at us and then it shot away
and held a space over the elementary school.
Then it went straight up. Hot
chocolate went cold and had an
unappetizing scum on top, lifted off
in one piece with a spoon.
It must have been a weather balloon.
The wash machine in the basement shook
like it was walking to Port Mary. Sheriff said
Can you turn that thing off, and
shoved butts around in the
ashtray. It was fast, faster
than anything we’d seen. No,
it was not a plane, sir.
The phone rang it was Teddy’s mom saying
There’s school tomorrow…
Can you send him home soon?
We must have seen a weather balloon.
We were just kids and we could hardly
know what we were talking about. Maybe
we were making it all up and
Plates with biscuits and gravy
were sat in front of us. We picked
and muddled. Why did they
call this old man to question
us? He was a buffoon.
He just knew it was a weather balloon.
Thank you for reading............