False Blare

The shriek just gutted the afternoon.

A drill, they said, later, on the air.

But for that slice of time, too soon,

my pulse just hammered, standing there.

The red strobe flashed, a frantic beat.

Adrenaline surged, hot and quick.

Then silence, sudden, bitter-sweet.

A nervous, stupid, rotten trick.

And I'm left with the dull ache now,

that hollow thrum, behind the eyes.

Knowing it's nothing, but somehow

still waiting for the next surprise.