Red Bud, before dusk

After her Mom died I guess you could say she experienced
what you might call post-tramautic growth syndrome,-
All I know is that she wanted to enter a demolition derby

But first came the warm up golf cart ride she whipped me
around on at a broken bike track socked into the eye of the
idle cottonwood trees on the north side of Red Bud Lake

It should have come as no surprise when she looked at me
for a reaction, because we’d been simultaneously craning
our necks towards heaven for years; making eye contact

She locked her foot down on the pedal, and both of us
were shrieking so hard I could barely hear my heart
bleating, go faster, go faster! you know what I mean?

If her cart turned up as a boat of a beat-up Chevy
I’d spray paint ‘Fortuity’ or ‘Recoil’ across the hood
(Either/or, I’m definitely putting all bets on Michele)

::

she’s the picture of resilience & strength ❤ 🏁
submitted to Tuesday Platform at Imaginary Toads

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