In Junior High School

I sat in the classroom listening

to the clock. I didn’t say

anything. I touched my lips

too much. I listened to the wind

rubbing against the windows.

The field behind my school

sometimes disappeared

under snow. One night my father

told me that he was a spy

for the CIA. He said that being

a spy was like James Bond

but less exciting. He said

I should never tell anyone

he was a spy. If anyone asked

I should say he worked for

the State Department. I listened

to my father but didn’t say

anything. I forgot I was there.

It was dark outside. After

that night I went on being

a student in junior high school.

I sat in the classroom and

didn’t tell anyone my father

was a spy for the CIA.

I forgot there were windows

between me and the field of snow.

My history teacher showed us

a bar graph of Soviet missiles.

They were towering over

the American missiles. He said

we were losing the Cold War.

I looked outside. I could see

footsteps in the field of snow.

I didn’t say anything.