Monday, April 3

Kamikaze

Mom takes big strides
through the Memphis Malls
dragging me behind
like a little red wagon.

She is walking the power walk
and I have none of that. I whine–
she’s walking too fast. She grunts
“You’re just not walking fast
enough,” but at least she never
lets my pudgy hand go.

I am aged, with longer limbs
and places to go. His arms are out,
hands resting on my shoulders
like a leather steering wheel.
I am tunnel vision.

He says we southerners
walk like we drive. And then
I feel like a kamikaze pilot,
but I never crash. His hands
grip me tighter, but I resist.
“This is just how we walk,
down here.”

brittany thinks really deep thoughts @ 7:30 PM

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