have become worrisome
again,
as if it is 1982
and I am 10 years old
wearing a haircut
circa 1978.
They've taken up
a mildly threatening position
somewhere off the coast
of Delaware, headed north.
"The first thing
you would see
is a great flash."
I remember,
as a fifth grader
I stood in our basement
fearing the worst,
knowing damn well
Ohio sandstone
couldn't withstand
a nuclear blast.
Now I am older.
My cinder block basement
appears no safer.
Will I never learn?
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