ARE WE THERE YET?

10:23 am, 7/26/19

Hopscotch chopsticks stuck in my hair

All I wanna know is

Do you really care?

Baby in the backseat

Honda in reverse

Windows down tell me 

It’s time for some

Jesus, Take the Wheel

Or

At least some

Road Rage Through the Pines.

Are you familiar with that

Oldies tune?

Move slow, move fast, 

Red light

Green light

Yellow light nights

Was I in a car seat?

Sometimes the unfortunate equivalent to

Designated Driver.

Tip-toe 

Hush-hush, 

Stuck between

Are We There Yets and 

DUIs.

His kayak flipped.

Class 9 rapids.

No calls home.

O, Brother

Where Art Thou?

And when do you think 

You might 

Give us a pulse to

Pencil it in.

No rush.

No worries.

Just prayers.

Though I’m getting pretty tired of 

Lighting a candle

And calling it a

Day.

O, God, Almighty Father, 

Maker of 

Heaven and 

Earth

Lord of the Most High

Jesus Christ

Take the Wheel.

No seriously.

Take it.

You can have it.

I don’t want it.

Take this fucking wheel

And spread that 

Cruise control

On THICK.

So the mosquitos won’t know what

Hit em.

They say your rising sign is the car you drive,

Like make and model,

Body and voice,

But your moon sign is the little guy with the hands

On the inside.

Well shoo,

Boo.

Who is driving my car?

Who is driving my car?

No really.

Who is she?

Way back when,

Sun used to be my girl,

But now the moon and I 

We got somethin’ goin’ on,

Ya feel?

His kayak flipped.

Class 9 rapids.

No calls home.

Maybe he couldn’t get to a

Payphone 

Because unfortunately-like

He was

Head under a rock,

Body plastic prisoner,

4 minutes upside down

River rat or 

Flower child,

All the same,

He heard a watery whisper.

Merrily, 

Merrily, 

Merrily, 

Merrily,

Life is but a

Close-Call.

Maybe if we all stuck our head

Under a faucet

We would hear God’s voice

Too.

We pulled up on the gravel, and the chihuahua barked as if to say, “you are not welcome here.” My mom got out of the car and unbuckled me. I could smell the sweat on her neck as the dangling Jerusalem cross brushed my eyelash with the click of the seatbelt. That yummy B.O. that leaks fear, not water-weight. Probably more to keep our cool than to keep us cool. Which is an important balance for a June mama. She grabbed the Irish Soda Bread from the backseat. Still in foil. Still warm. Still her best excuse to drive 3 hours to Chattooga, Georgia. Better to deliver hot bread in the summer than swing by to see if your son is alive or dead. 

Just in the neighborhood. 

Thought I’d stop by.

WINDOW OR AISLE

12/21/18

I wish you could fit in my jacket pockets

Safe and snug

Warm and convenient

So I could reach inside 

The polyester

Get lost in the gum wrappers and

Loose tobacco and

Extra euros from another lover

To find 

You 

Waiting for me

On a chilly day.

I crawl my fingertips around you, 

Stay.

Hello there. Here’s a little snack. 

I got your favorite.

How’s your day?

We are inches away and worlds apart. 

But you, 

You have trained my heart

Only to call out

In the distance. 

Only to cry

In the dark.

I’m sorry my technical support hotline is 24/7 out of service,

But your lunch break commitment kills my vibe.

When I trust you are far, far away

On a plane,

Out the door, 

On the phone with customer care.

(Yes,

I was jealous.)

Then and only then,

I cry out.

Hold me.

Do you mind?

Maybe you accidentally hit mute, 

Or maybe you’re stuck in the security line 

Shoes off

Strip search

Step aside, sir.

Or

Carry-on, darling

But whatever the gate,

Don’t forget where you 

Do your laundry.

Because sorry to break it to you 

Sweetheart,

But the blood don’t lie like tears do. 

You come from car crashes and indigo, 

Moxy and Dr. Pepper,

Sick dogs and melancholia, 

Walking tacos on the six-mile soccer field.

Ring any bells?

No, I don’t want to marry you,

I just want to own you. 

We are so afraid to ask for

Joy

To claim our

Desire

To build a house in the 

Desert

That might only turn out to be a

Mirage.

The bad guy never knows he’s

Bad.

But I don’t need another fucking

Hero. 

Believe it or not, I know I’m

Beautiful. 

I don’t need you to 

Discover me

The way I once did. 

But if you could just

Know me.

If you could just

See me.

If you could just 

Show up.

That.

That.

That would Carpe my 

Damn Diem. 

That would be

Love

To me.

Today.

Ask me again

Tomorrow.

And I’ll probably want

Sex

Or 

An ice cream cone

Or

Letterpress RSVPs with burnt orange borders. 

But today,

I want you.

RED BALLOON

[date unknown]

I’m holding a red balloon. 

I’m sure it was. 

Red.

Green Mountain Darling,

Top of the heap,

Mama said bye-bye, baby.

Alone now, so

Where’s my sister,

Sarah?

No, not the one still squatting in 

Genesis.

I’m talkin’ about my sister.

Sarah.

You know.

Don’t pretend.

The one you promised me,

In the scribble juice

Pictures on the fridge.

You pointed, and said,

There she is.

Cookin’ up a storm.

Well.

Where is she?

Timer went off,

Roasted and rotated,

Soaked and cooled,

It’s about time she

Came on out of the oven.

Ain’t it?

I whisper into the red balloon,

And she grows up with my secrets.

“I miss you.

I miss you.

I miss you.

I wish.

I wish.

I wish we could have

Built mascara forts together

And

Borrowed all the tank tops

Or mistakes

Or both,

And visited each other on a late night bus,

No wifi,

When the heart needed its

Oil checked

Or the mind needed a 

Muse. 

But really, 

What I’m trying to say is.

I will miss you all my life.

Even though

We never met.

Sometimes I wonder

If you had all the answers to the pop quiz,

How to Woman in this World,

That I lost the cheat sheet for.

Somewhere at the bottom of my 

Backpack, turned

Inside out.

Sometimes I wonder 

If you could have protected me

From the scary boys

And the mean girls

And the green gum stuck on my sneaker.

Oh yea, 

Did I tell you?

There are holes in my sneakers.

So when it rains,

It pours.

The river rises

And floods my feet with 

Tears or tales of sisters long ago.

A land before time. 

Some promised land of 

Sorrow.

Everyone eats the granola

And downloads the app,

To help them walk a mile

In someone else’s shoes.

But listen.

I can’t even seem to find my own.

Because of these

Damn HOLES 

In my sneakers,

Lettin’ all the ghosts in.

“Mama,” 

I used to say…

“I got a song in my shoes.”

But the 

Real deal 

Situation

Tells me I have not aged

A bit.

Click, click,

No place like home.

Click, boo-bop,

No place ‘cept you.

Shoo-wop, bee-boo.

Tornado traffic

During rush hour

Tells me

This may be 

All we get.

This could be 

It.

I released the balloon 4 feet from the ground and watched it navigate to Heaven. Attached to the string was my letter for Sarah, containing questions such as, 

“What is life, and why are we here? Do you miss grass even though you’ve never touched it? Also, why does dad yell at mom when he brings home a Little Caesars pizza? Can you confirm that all dogs really do go to heaven? If so, do you think you could shazam one down to me to learn some basic responsibilities of animal care and cuddling?  

Cool. Thanks. Please write back. I will no doubt need your help with some other projects in the pipeline.

Your sister,

Hannah

p.s. if a rocket ship would expedite delivery, we can try for that next time... Lmk”

THE DISTANCE IS SO LONG

9:15 pm, 1/26/20

The distance is so long.

Too far to sing,

Too wide to jump.

The distance is so long. 

“Maybe it’s only a mirage,”

[He said]

“But don’t you see?

McGee?”

[She cried]

“That’s all I ever want.”

I dreamt he fed me matzah balls

On my mother’s front porch in 

June. 

I don’t know what a matzah ball is

But I’ll take

His

Any day.

I dreamt he bought us a bus

And asked me to install the 

Horn.

Instead, I painted it 

Purple.

Surprise!

Together, we were 

Reborn. 

I dreamt he carefully took my eyeballs

Out of my face

Into his palms

And stuck them inside his own head

So he could see all I had seen 

All the mountain junkies and 

Scrambled eggs

And even himself

From the inside out.

That juicy rear-view mirror stuff

That only comes from

The other.

I mean think about it.

You’ve never actually seen 

Your own face.

Somehow 

That

Is justice.

I waited on the couch 

Blind as a bat,

Fit as a fiddle,

Holes in my face,

Smiling so big it hurt.

“I’ll never have to say another word,”

I thought.

He’ll just….

Know.

I wish I could have watched him 

Trying on my eyes.

I wish I could have seen my 

Life flash before

My own eyes

(I guess they were still mine?)

But it’s really a 

Private matter

A solo gig

So I just sat there

On the couch

Blind as a bat,

Fit as a fiddle,

Holes in my face.

They say your listening gets better when you lose your sight

And I gotta say

On account a’ it happenin’ to me

The rumors are true.

Cold air through the glass.

He sighs,

I blink.

Bumblebee landing on a

Backyard daffodil. 

He laughs.

I beam.

Daddy laughing at an old

Crow.

Ancient high fives.

Sing me to sleep.

I hear it.

I hear the call.

I hear it all.

So loud

So incredibly loud

The sound of him seeing me

The volume of the sweet sweet

Sugar in my toes

Or was it sand

Whatever it was 

It was exfoliating my dead skin

Fear away

And finally, finally after all these years,

I cry out! 

“Baby, baby what do you think of it all?”

……………

“Baby, baby what do you make of it all?”

……………

Baby? Baby? Baby?

And that’s when I heard it all at once.

He was gone.

Stolen my eyes and all.

Burglar with a booby trap.

He was gone. 

So I just sat there.

On the couch,

Blind as a bat,

Fit as a fiddle,

Holes in my face.

Waiting for my turn to see again.

Waiting for someone to play along.

But oh, my baby baby.

The distance is so long.