Two blondes.
One bouncing in the red cushion window seat,
bowl cut, light-up sneakers, making engine sounds
as his small hands hold the body of the airplane
flying it through the October air.
The other sitting on brown hardwood,
soft curls, pink sparkle dress, stumbling over words
as she reads aloud Goodnight Moon in the afternoon.

Grandma's in the kitchen,
smoking out the window over the sink,
telling them that daddy will be home in just a minute.

Daddy walks in, screen door flinging shut, with muddy work boots,
torn jeans, and black hands.
The boy directs his plane right into his daddy's arms
spit spurting from his noisemaker lips.
The little girl jumps into Daddy's other side, resting on his hip.
Daddy kisses her soft cheek before he sets them both down.
They grab their backpacks and strap their sneakers.
Daddy's thanking grandma who put her cigarette out as she heard him walk in.
She coughs and says not to mention it again.
She'll see him tomorrow.

Daddy buckles his kids in the back seat,
listening to the boy ramble on about his day,
the little girl trying to interrupt.
Daddy nods and smiles,
fixes the rearview mirror and drives through the yard
careful not to rip the grass up
as he turns on the main road.
They both fall asleep before he makes it home.

My mom wakes up in a sweat,
calls me on the phone when I'm asleep
telling me all about her marvelous dream
about Daddy and my kids.
Tells me this wouldn't be the first time
she's saw him and I make it to the end.
I tell her this wouldn't be the first time
I believed it either.

Baby, we got on the roller coaster and everything began spinning. We were dizzy. It was almost 10 o'clock and we had own hands full of cold. It was us two, baby. You and I in the middle of the roller coaster, you and I in a totally insane sunday splashed with darkness. Baby, you and I, broken, fragile, demented. ******* up. With our *** cold. Happy under the rain in the roller coaster. I think you closed your eyes to touch with the tip of your fingers the black sky, the clouds, the rain and then you said that something wasn't going ok in the roller coaster, that it smelled like blood, and I told you to keep calm, that nothing was going on. The night smelled of blood, of wet newspaper, of liquor, of a just-fired pistol. Keep calm baby, I told you, every sunday is the same, but you insisted something was not ok and then you vomited and we look backwards and forewards and we were splashed by drops of blood and rain. Every passenger in the roller coaster had cut their veins and their blood was falling everywhere. Keep calm baby. You kept vomiting. The passengers were looking at the sky, they were with their arms opened and you said, what a nice way to die, keep calm baby, and you added that maybe that people dreamt of touching the sky and the clouds with the tip of their fingers and its better not to *****.