7:18 pm in July
The thunder passes and the clouds break
The cicadas start to sing
At a swimming pool in the South
Children splashing and playing and doing the things children do at pools
Oblivious to the plight in Syria
Or North Korea
Or of the prostitute at crack hotel down the block
Free of worry
Filled  with hope
But not really
Mostly they’re filled with merriment
Keen to peeking in Marco Polo,
but blind to the Apache helicopter that just flew past
– a dragonfly dancing on the dusk
Girl emerges from the pool shaking water from her ears
“Can I have some money for a water ice, Daddy?”
“No.” I say. “You’ll spoil dinner.”
And suddenly, I’m my mother


Jim Mitchem

The Evil that Mad Men Do

Jim Mitchem

Writer. Father to daughters. Husband. Ad man. Raised by wolves. @jmitchem on twitter. First novel, Minor King, out now.