Sunday, July 19, 2020

sunflower painted on a satellite dish

I’m 27 now

I wake up late

we drive to the water gap

mom calls me on the road  

Harry catches a fish big enough to eat

we are shocked

kill it with a stick

it all happened so fast

on the way home a flipped Penske truck blocks the on-ramp 

Harry runs over to assess the injured

keeps them talking until the ambulance shows up 

none of the cops have masks on

circumventing the accident 

I drive, more carefully now, down small roads

until we end up back in time

a Victorian main street

a burnt sugar smell

through cornfields, clover

sprinklers make giant arcs over the corn

a woman plays fetch with a cow

the sun sinks

sign for immaculate conception convent 

down a shadowy road

think about mom

back home Leks and Al come over 

with popsicles and wine

we melt on the balcony in the dark

using the skeleton hand bottle opener

suddenly feeling easy, present (drunk) 

sparkles on my plastic fan

catching the candle light

I’m 27 now

disproportionately hung over 

to what I drank

and mom writes to say she is in fact 

not pregnant sorry to have “worried” me

I wake up later and later

seeing the story 

back and back in time

seeing all the flip sides

ready to file under “pain in the ass” 

and “just swallow”