Cavalier



My father is the old Chevy wagon he’d put me in

on our way home from Sunday School

Golden, glimmering under a weary sun

The last of a long line of farmers



When I came into this world he called me Thunder

said I’d be a ‘booming presence’

I turned myself into a neutrino

which is the exact opposite of thunder

A non-threat, I tried not to bother the world

and the world did not react to me

any more than a brief inconvenience, like

a typo in an encyclopedia



We were left unaware

lying dormant in this static, building up

steady, sacred, underneath the hood

of that old Chevy still in my blood

still purring in my veins

where I had stored his wish all along



Soon the loudest flash will come

careening o’er the skies



Soon will come the dredge of tears

to be swallowed up by the upholstery

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