racetrack (poem)

4 years old
and dad lets me ride shotgun
strapped in tight
rain flying by the window
just one solid water logged sky
50, 60, 80 mph around the slippery track


the race cancelled
i scream and laugh
taking in the smell of stale cigarettes
cherry-flavored chapstick
motor oil and cough drops


hang on to the cigarette-burned cracked vinyl seat
i dig my nails into ruined upholstery
wet, warm pain shoots through my finger
and the blister breaks open


(i remember the burn
of summer-scorched orange coals
shining like a secret sunset
a whole box of secrets….
bright hot jewels)


everyone said to stay away
get that kid away from the hibachi!!!!


old rusty metal box
dirty grime from the last cookout
the stinky fish dad caught grilling on top
popping & cracking with grease
i won’t eat the fish
just the tail (cuz it tastes like a salty potato chip)


i had to reach in
and touch the blistering hot coals
you would have too
(if you knew
how beautifully they blazed)
i kept my tiny index finger
resting on inflamed briquettes
until someone pulled me way
the pain shooting through my small pale arm
electric-shock jolt and sizzle


years later i look at my finger
larger and hang-dog wrinkled around the edge
i wish there was a scar
a sign, a reminder
some permanent little road map mark
to nowhere
now here


i see mom
a long pale blur on the side of the track
wet and worried
wheat blonde hair plastered down on her head
from rain and worry and weariness


hi mom…..bye mom……


the heavy booted foot
eases off the gas pedal
slowing down now
my tiny heart still racing
around the darkening track