Waxing Poetic Of Nuclear Bombs, And Such Poem by Bryan Corbett

the 70's were a wacky time
for a whole lot of reasons that
I won't get into here

but a funny picture POPPED
into my head today: elementary school,
second grade, pretty Mrs. Nelson's classroom

it was in the middle of the Cold War, and
some big missiles, somewhere overseas,
were pointed directly at our little suburban school
(or so they said)

so, once a month, for every month
we'd practice 'Duck and Cover' - just in case
which meant: jump under your desk and cover our head
when you hear the ALARM bell BLAST
(which nearly broke our eardrums)
and there we stayed until the principal's voice
came over the tinny-sounding public address system
and gave us: 'The All Clear'

looking back now on that particular memory
and waxing poetic about hiding under my desk
(and maybe sneaking a peek under Mrs. Nelson's lime green dress)
I really don't think that those desks would have
done much good