she’s 10, and ready
he’s 6, and not
it’s a long line, and a long time
to think
about the stories, not Dad’s
or Uncle Alan’s
but Grandy, this was her first roller coaster
and her dad’s
mom said she’d come
but no, it’s okay
he looks down at his sister’s hand
it’s right there
he can’t understand 10 years from now
but is clear on forever
he would suffer the hand-holding jack rabbit story
forever
it’s loud
but it makes sense
the click, click, click, click
up
then down and the car whines
the wood gives, and takes,
the people are screaming
Mom said they paint it every year
they finish painting and the next day
start over
Dad says the paint is all that holds it together
the paint is chipping
the impossibility of Grandy’s dad
the line, the paint, screaming, her hand,
it’s now
she pushes him across – move
come-on, you’re not scared are you?
click, click, click click
she takes his hand, off the bar
and holds it up til he’s not quite sitting
she wants to hold his hand
now?
he can’t cry,
too busy with the idea of alive and dying
another forever, and at least two more, then
move, come on,
done.
and of course she wants to go again.
the line is long
Dad wants a hot dog, mom needs a bathroom
so he’s safe, enough
for some 6-year old swagger
–yeah, me too