I remember believing magic 
might someday be used to save me. 

I remember when the front seat 
was a bench from door to door. The shifter 

thumbed out from the steering column. 
I remember when no cars were new, 

or rustless, or waxed to a gloss; when mom 
thumped the side of my soft haircut 

with her fist; full force, and just as hard 
the third time. There were medicines…

rancid broth in ghoulish black bottles, 
no matter the malady. Now I sit bereaved 

of the buoyancy that brought me
to adulthood. How the sight of big skies 

through a child’s ignorance of the unseen, 
poured into me a wondrous dread. Beyond 

any horizon lurked quicksand brimming 
with bodies, or dinosaurs…or a cliff 

dropping to bottomless black. I no longer 
wish for nothing more than to fall in, 

but I miss not knowing all 
that the years since have forced upon me.

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