Three Memories

Of all of the beat-up polaroids that clutter my memory

these float on the surface

face up

demanding to be acknowledged

and so I string them up
crisscrossing the room on fishing line
a visual map of my memories
a garden of forgotten moments to wander through

as I circle the setup
calculating
a few of these pictures align like planets
in a solar system simulation on some
public television science special:

1.

I'm young

playing in the yard

everything is green and faded yellow

even then, I lived in sepia

my father washing a car that isn't his

a company car

and the sun is setting on brynthrop lane

In the distance I hear the heavenly tune

and I rush into my room

I tear through a broken electric coin bank

the kind that sorts change

but nothing

and in my panic and desperation

I turn to my father

But he has no sympathy for me, this time

and the ice cream truck blazes by as I tear up

running back to my room

I don't remember what my room looks like

but I do remember what i could hear from inside

that truck's melody muffled by a lawnmower next door

I cover my head and cry.

2.

My grandfather is dead

and my sister and mother and father are all crying

and I'm standing in the funeral parlor remembering the hospital

the silvery blues and flaring lights as I squint

and holding his hand minutes before he died

I'm young, and I don't get it

but at the same time, I do

and I'm handling it, I'm keeping it inside

My sister turns to me, weeping

and she goes off

'Don't you get it? He's dead!

He's never coming back! Don't you care?'

It's then that I cry.

Not for grandpa

but for myself

3.

My Buick LeSabre was freedom

the arm rest went up

like in the movie theaters we frequented

and she could sit close

We were so young, so reckless

no better way to be

it was a parking lot in plain sight

We sunk down in the front seats

I let the blue interior of my grandfather's car envelop me

She touches me for the first time

We strip down

Her purple lace against pale skin

hot breath on necks

were they watching? the kids with their street racers

the starbucks sat across from us

None of it mattered

it was sweat and lace and dirty words

and I was in love.