when the bombs fall

as a child
they'd make you practice running
home
with the sirens
wailing
above the elementary school.
it was during the cold war,
the Cuban
missile crisis,
when the end was a red button
away.
we'd practice ducking
under our desks
to keep the radiation from
turning us into
small x-ray like
skeletons
and then we'd gather our
books and lunch boxes
to run home as quickly as
possible to
die with the rest of our
family. it was fun,
in a strange sort of way.
gleeful to get out of class.