Posted in poetry, tagged grandmother, road trip, stars, texas on January 10, 2012 |
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Through west Texas you told me I needed to take a step back
when all we had was yellow brick after yellow brick after yellow brick,
I stayed between the lines.
And that always bigger picture of things loomed
above us, gazing in through the windshield,
squeezing our cheeks like a grandmother, so proud.
For us, all that was were stars and stars and stars.
Hours crawled by a mile a minute and change.
You got quiet for fifty some odd ticks to the odometer
and I peeked over and saw your eyes open.
I flicked my brights to wink at you and maybe you missed it.
I took a step back.
What’s left when every thing’s ahead?
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Posted in short shorts, tagged attic, claudia, gretchen, jeremy, king, lake, night, sneak, stars, summer, water on October 19, 2009 |
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I remember sneaking up to the attic when my parents slept with their door closed. I’d pull the bed out that the couch turned into and would flop, flipping from side to side, a king in his luxurious court, presiding over all of himself.
And then there was the time Philip came in and my flopping stopped. I’d been caught. Even the squirrels who would rustle back and forth on the roof throughout the night, they stopped too. He looked at me and said he was going out, that he wanted someone to know, just in case, he said. And I said to come home soon or Who cares what you do? I don’t remember which.
And I heard him creak down the stairs on all the ones I knew to avoid and felt the summer night creep in through the window as I heard his footsteps outside.
I was barely awake when he came back an hour later, smelling of lake water and the fullness of a lived summer night.
He came to say goodnight, but this time the crickets were louder than his steps. He sat next to me on the bed, dipping me toward his warm wet weight as the mattress creaked.
“I’ll have to show you stars sometime,” he said to me.
Here’s the thing though: I’ve always been much more cautious.
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