10k views, 2x BestPoetryCollection. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind |
Dad with the blinker on We just noticed as kids, maybe once, now eternal, Dad drove everywhere the same speed — 45 miles per hour. The highway north to the camp. Through town, 10 miles over the limit. Mom: “Slow down John. Do you want to get a ticket?” He scoffed, mildly, derisively. On the cut off road, twists, turns, belly flops from dips — forty-five. It didn’t matter if gravel or blacktop, cruisin’ speed, steady-set, boot to pedal in that flat-green, Ford pickup, weighing needle scoring number 45. His ball cap tilted up and back, sweat on brow, breezes flew through the cabin — blowing my blond hair south, and east, and west, briefly north drifted. He leaned into a hard wheel, shouldered a skinless frame. A few times, gave that brim a wiggle. And there were sighs. We asked if we could hang our arms out the window. He’d point to an old guy in a wagon passing, stub of arm hung on the frame. “That’s how he lost his.” We didn’t believe, but didn’t question, and so, behaved as children ‘seen, and not heard'. He’d still stop at Tastee Freeze, probably wanted ice cream too. He gave me my dime, dropped on the white, weathered counter to order a chocolate cone. He preferred vanilla. To my brother, I low-whispered, “He probably lost his arm in the war,” and with darting tongues gathered a brown melt, quick slop rolling down the waffle. The freckled shrimp spit through two holes in his beat-red, wicked face — he already knew that. 48 lines, free verse 3.25.22 4.13.22 final edit story poem: not for the short-attention-span-theatre-set #breathless #poetry #story #nostalgia #family "Poetic Referendum(s) On Life" Quill Nominated Best Poetry Collection two consecutive years, 2020 and 2021. |