I step back inside for a moment to call
the boys out to see quickly before the
X-Wings and T.I.E. fighters finish their dog
fight and flee back into the night. The sky
explodes in Technicolor as the ships dip
and slip between the bursting flak. The oldest
boy excitedly notices a neighbor two doors
down hunkering in a roof-top command box,
like in Mary Poppins, firing banks of rockets
into the fray as if archers at Agincourt. Collateral
fire falls into our fire pit in the back yard, and
onto candles laid out on the table, and we gather
around casually discussing our lives, and kids,
and jobs as if nothing unordinary occurs at all.
(June 15, 2014)
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