The Lessons of Uvalde
Don't forget your books with the shiny covers.
Pens filled with glitter and rainbows of hope.
My books used to be wrapped in brown paper bags.
By year's end they'd be frayed and covered in kid graffiti.
Number 2 pencils poked with bite marks.
Most importantly, mind your teachers.
But when they delve into critical hate theory or gender fluency.
You have my blessing to tune them out...
After all, you're only six years old.
In my day we'd recited the pledge.
Had air raid drills garnished with salted sirens.
We'd be ordered to scramble under wooden desks.
To protect ourselves from nuclear fireballs...
The teachers turning into hell hounds.
Barking at us to keep quiet and keep our heads down.
As they goose-stepped up and down the aisles.
They'd look for stray-paper-eyed lambs.
We had to do this because of a red boogie man.
Who couldn't wait to lay our souls inside his nuclear sandbox-
Of course, you kids have your own boogie man to fester about...
So don't forget to run for the gates or shelter in place.
If all else fails, do as they do in Uvalde.
Cover yourself in your best friend's blood and play dead.
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