Reactor

One wall features your obituary.
I didn’t need to tell them your story.

The last name you built follows me,
from Westinghouse
to the Skipjack series,
all the way to Penn State.

"This is Cerenkov radiation," they told me.
The great blue flash illuminated the pool,
the water that hugged the rods.

I got to witness the pulse-excited heartbeat
of the reactor as it woke up that morning.
I see why this fascinated you.

"Do you want to see your grandfather's last log?"
She asked me.
Your handwriting always was a little tough.

“So help me God, I’ll be back!”
Your scribbles boomed.
Intimidating, but I know you were teasing.
I’m sure your voice carried around the reactor, too.

I bet you’d sit around in your blue pajamas here if you could.

I’m sorry I’m not an engineer.
I am a nuclear meltdown.

------------------------------------------------

Written fall 2008 but always on my brain.

Go learn something! "A is for Atom"

The Editor's Remarks

If at first you don't succeed,
you probably work here instead of ESPN.

What the world needs now is
human interest stories.

When life hands you lemons,
keep them on file in case you need them later.

Then they all lived happily ever
after they finished the layout in Quark.

-----------------------------------
I probably have a couple more hiding. ...Maybe I should write new stuff, too.

Minor League

You don't use crisp, clean, white baseballs
for batting practice.

The groupies have probably never even left
the time zone.

But you get a walk-up song,
and no one throws a six-dollar Iron City at you.

They love you,
because you're not in it for the money.

----------------------------------
And the old poems continue to finally see the light of day—er, screen.