The Red Army Looks Up
Oct 9 2007


In 1957, I turned 2.
The year Sputnik went up,
proving
that Russia’s German scientists were better than our Germans.
The first satellite was no bigger than a basketball;
although something else I read
had it closer to a beach ball.
Which strikes me as improbable;
because if there’s one thing for sure
Communists are never frivolous,
and I just can’t picture a Soviet colonel
cavorting on a sandy beach someplace.

So as I learned to navigate on 2 feet
this tiny aluminum sphere circled the planet,
sending out its ominous little beep
— the Russians triumphalist,
America panicking.
And no one imagining
how beautiful –- and fragile –- the earth could look from space.

And 10 years later, the first man stepped-down on the moon;
a decade which makes us all feel
like horrible under-achievers.
But we were dauntless then,
when even Apollo 13 could get the thumbs-up
— no skipping numbers,
like elevators
or apartment blocks.

Although no one ever commemorates
the day Sputnik fell.
Of course, it could never really return
— plummeting to earth, flaring-up as it burned,
annihilated in a few brief seconds of light.
As brilliant as the first shooting star,
that caught a little boy by surprise.