The imperceptical slant of Missouri 
prairie has a couple of pimples
at Knob Noster. They are barely knobs,
just slight rises that stick up 
in the 360° of flat.  Like all things
in this scraggly land the name’s
deceptive, singular when it should plural.
Some 19th century pundit declared
that Noster was latin for “our”,
thus the name means “Our Knob”.
There is no proof of this
– maybe someone just had
a sharp-edged mind for alliteration.

Both knobs host housing developments
of well-kept bungalows with a view.
Many Knob Noster homeowners 
work at Whiteman Air Force Base
built in the “Blue Flats” at the south end
of town. (The convenience store clerk said 
you didn’t have to be indigenous 
to appreciate the irony of the AFB name.)
After WWII  the base was used as a site
for Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles.
A house for nuclear weapons!
This put the people of Knob Noster
in the bull’s eye for a World War III attack.
(The clerk said if that happened, you might
as well get it over with ASAP.)
Today the base contains our country’s fleet
of stealth bombers, capable of flying 
11,000 miles with an in-flight refuel
to deliver a nuclear strike.

I think it might be possible to live
in Knob Noster, picnic with the family
in prarie grass, fish in the local stream,
drive to KC everyday for work, never
look through the fence at the bombers, 
go deaf whenever they took off.
I guess I’d know what to do.