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Sep 2018
When I step outside the
Air’s thick like molasses,

The asphalt of our driveway
Appears to melt and steam
And be this sort of semi-liquid,

I half expect my dad’s car to
Get stuck as he’s pulling out for
Work, but he leaves without
Any lasting imprint,

I wave goodbye and walk back
To the garage for my bike,

Every plant and animal
Is lush and thriving
At this time, basking in
The conditions,

The grass is thick like buffalo fur,
And near the lakes, cattail springs up
Like hormonal teenagers,

Blue Dasher dragonflies
Hunt mosquitoes on
Purple Loosestrife,

Fox Squirrels burrow
Maple Seed inside of
Quaking Aspens,

Rhubarb grows wild beneath
Fields of electrical lines,





I spend these days riding down
The Bass Ponds hill to throw
Molotov Cocktails made from
Mini bottles and lawnmower
Gas,

I go to the Mall of America and toss
Orange Julius onto W.W.E conventions,

I stare at a man who wears a Vietnam veterans
Hat and smokes a cigarillo inside of McDonalds,
Threatening to shoot everyone inside,

I break into my old middle school and
Hoist chairs onto the desks like a poltergeist,

I am in baseball tournaments
And pick-up basketball games,

I swim in lakes, rivers and ***** ponds,

I impersonate mothers over the
Phone when my friends get caught
Stealing and the owner wants to handle
It without the authorities,

I stand on a pedestrian bridge
And spit on cars that are caught
In evening traffic,

I hear Cricket frogs howling for
Their lover as the summer quiets,

I watch the sundown string
Out like warm caramel,

The end to this long strand
Of sunset is the nighttime,

When the moon and stars
Flicker into distant vibrancy,

Where coolness settles in, and
Headlights become necessary,

I return home to see the driveway
As a pitch black mass without a car,

So I go inside, take a shower, and
Remember when I used to swim into
Bathtub laboratories as a child,

When I rose to the top I saw my mom
Blurred because of the shower door, sitting
On the toilet with a book in her hand,

She made sure to laugh when I laughed,
And always asked what I discovered
While on my journey down below,

I made sure to pretend that one of
My toys was the stolen linchpin
To some world-destroying device
That would have put our lives in
Jeopardy,  

I haven’t taken a bath since she died,
So when I leave the shower I know she
Won’t be there and I know the world
Is in danger, but I’m not sure if he is
Back yet, so I tiptoe to the top of the
Stairs in my towel and listen for him,

After getting dressed I make a
Grilled cheese and eat it with
Potato chips,

I sit on the head of the couch
So my peripherals will catch
Any signs from the street,

The night is getting old and
The cars driving by become
Few and far between,

Nearly every pair of headlights
I see is either from a semi-truck
Or squad car,

At this point I decide to stand outside,
Thinking that if I’m out there I’ll act
As a sort of magnet,  




By my front door I see moths become
Icarus, fluttering too close to the porch
Light, soon to be cracked by their fusion
To the bulb,

I am pacing now and imagine
Him nodding off on his barstool,
Setting his sights on a third
Nightcap being served by a tender
That is desperate for tips
And isn’t worried about his drive,

He’s crashed before, and I’ve been
In the car with him when he’s
Swerved off the road,

I’ve told him to watch out and
Stop and that’s a red light more
Times than I can count,

I wave goodbye to him every
Morning as a reminder that I’m
Here and alive, and that I’m
Waiting for him to make it back
With his headlights on,  

When I finally see a car turning
Onto my street, I run toward
It so fast I feel as though there
Are wings on my back.
Vincent Singer
Written by
Vincent Singer  Portland, OR
(Portland, OR)   
176
 
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