I have to admit that it was a gift
that rescued us from Chicago’s
day after day, night after night
pitiless summer heat and humidity,
the endless series of restless sleep,
and dozens of sweat-soaked shirts.
My parents were very proud
that they could afford that box,
noisy and rattling as it was,
placed in the dining room window
the stream of cool, dry, restful comfort,
it even relieved mold and allergies.
But I had just sat in science class
on our costs of making energy;
so as I left home the next day
I saw the box that gave us pleasure
when multiplied millions of times
would sure lead to a future of hurt.
© 1972, Kenneth Koziol. All rights reserved. (1965)
