The alarm
is a wave
that knocks us
out of our chairs.
Pencils fly,
papers float in the air,
chairs squeak
as we dive
under our desks.
But nobody is scared.
It’s only a drill.
We are getting used to them.
There were a few small quakes
over the summer,
so school makes us
do drills once a week.
But I don’t like how loud it gets,
the alarm’s bell sound winding up
and down and up again.
We wait until
we’re told
it’s time to go outside.
When we get to the field,
Jordan and the other boys
argue about the World Series.
Jordan used to be my best friend
until our parents got in an argument
that broke everything into pieces,
so it’s different now.
He spends his time with Martin.
Martin thinks the A’s and the Giants
are going to be in it.
A’s in ’89, he says. No one steals
bases like Rickey Henderson.
If I wanted to speak up,
I would tell him no way.
Candy Maldonado is too good in the outfield.
Dad and I always root for the Giants!