Watching The Jetsons
we caught a glimpse of the future.
Aerocars and robots and videophones.
As long as there’s boys said Judy Jetson.
Even for some of us boys there would be boys.
Our metal Rocky and Bullwinkle lunch boxes
sparkled in the sun
as we walked home from school,
carrying manila envelopes
anxiously awaited by our parents,
eager to read the tarot
of the report cards inside,
to give them an idea of who we’d be,
if only Fearless Leader and Boris and Natasha
would let us grow up,
to uncover our heads and get out from under our desks,
instead of stuck in a fetal position,
knowing how Laika felt,
unable to breathe
or understand what was happening,
desperately scratching at the door.
Andy Macera is the recipient of awards from Plainsongs, Mad Poets Review and Philadelphia Poets. His work has also appeared in Mudfish, Pearl, California Quarterly, Connecticut River Review, Straight Forward, Off The Coast, Poetry Quarterly, Old Red Kimono, Gyroscope Review and other journals. He lives in West Chester, Pennsylvania.