Off Air
By Jesse Putnam
When I went they cheered.
Draped farewells over the highway.
Painted bedsheets waved above honking trucks.
When I went you wept.
Standing at the backdoor, nibbling on swollen lips.
Hands on belly bulging through Nana’s sweater.
When I went they saluted.
Cleared a path through security.
Some applauded, on their way to Disney.
When I went they asked
Was I nervous? Thompson with a p?
My face fed to 14 affiliates for the 6 O’clock.
When I went it was quiet.
Vibrating engines lulled me to sleep.
No captain’s message. No baby cries.
When I was there it was hell.
When we talked it was heaven.
When I bled I held your picture.
When I was dead I waited.
They tried for full cargo but it was slow
So when we got twelve, they let us go.
When I arrived I was alone.
They wouldn’t let you in. Security issue.
No pictures. No television.
When you came they asked.
What was I like? How old is the baby?
You wept while your Dad saluted.
——
Jesse Putnam is a returned Peace Corps volunteer and an actor, playwright and screenwriter living in Seattle. He is the author of several plays (including Olyolyumphree and The Masters), two screenplays (A Poet and A Spy and The Star Maker), a collection of poems and several short stories.
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