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Mosquito Truck
by Bruce W Niedt
In my neighborhood
with the exception of the ice cream man
no one attracted kids
like the mosquito truck guy.
Hed cruise down the streets
in that battered gray tanker
with County Pest Control stenciled
in no-nonsense black on the side.
Behind him a nozzle spewed
a cloud of insecticide,
pluming and roiling like a sudden white fog.
And we were close behind
on our red and blue Schwinns
plowing through this haze
pretending to be jet fighters
cutting the cumulus toward the stratosphere.
Who knows what we were inhaling
on those muggy summer evenings?
Im sure DDT was in the mix.
But these were innocent times
before cancer was something everybody got,
before we wondered what was killing
all those fish and birds,
before we worried what our enemies
might put in our air,
or what we had done to it ourselves.
All that mattered to us at the time
was imagination, aspiration, purpose.
We would plunge oblivious
through those dangerous fumes,
pedaling willfully toward the unknown.
05/24/2006 Author's Note: First published in Edison Literary Review, Vol. 8, 2009.
Posted on 05/24/2006
Copyright © 2025 Bruce W Niedt
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Julie Adams on 05/24/06 at 01:39 PM THIS IS AMAZING...who knew what could come of mosquitoes...BRAVO my friend, this is a wonderful addition to your library...the first stanza stocked with concrete images, the second with contemplative consciousness amassing into a powerful expression of nostalgia and change...all the best to u, *jewels* |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 05/24/06 at 04:50 PM Excellent nostalgia piece. Oh the innocense! Oh the humanity! The same scene here in Canada. These lines ring especially loud in my ears: before cancer was something everybody got,
before we wondered what was killing
all those fish and birds. Thanks for writing and sharing this Bruce. :o)
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| Posted by Michelle Angelini on 05/24/06 at 07:03 PM Bruce, wow do you bring back memories! I remember this. My brothers and I were always called in by my Mom and weren't allowed to go out until the "fog" cleared. This might go under the category of "What were they thinking?" but then again, like you say, what did we know then.
~Chelle~ |
| Posted by Mary Ellen Smith on 05/29/06 at 04:31 AM You sure do have a way to bring the old days back when you write about them...love this. I could see those spoked wheels turning...freckled face boys pumping their legs faster, faster...great read. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 08/05/06 at 02:02 PM I like reading this after your Mosquito poem - adds another layer. Now I rush around the house when the mosquito truck comes, slamming doors, praying my cats, if outside, aren't being poisoned. Our innocence is indeed gone. |
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