Next morning, still in my dress,
smelling of pot, bubble gum smoke
and that gross guy.
On the drive home,
Chloe and Dylan talk
about being Second Semester Seniors,
Chloe sending in her art school application.
My applications still crowd my desk.
I’ll do them today, I think. For three schools.
All away from the city.
The highway runs
gray and long—
Dylan yawns, says he’s sleepy.
Chloe puts on Nirvana.
Close my eyes too, try not to think of
Ponytail’s quick hands.
I dream:
We’re young. April and I, the carousel.
I’m counting the clown faces that go by,
trying to predict which will come next,
it’s hard, their hair keeps changing colors,
but Daddy’s there. He waves each time we pass.
Except for the last time—
it’s like we came too quickly
or he forgot.
I see him before he sees me:
his limbs start disappearing,
I yell for him,
but my horse passes by.
When I wake up,
I don’t know where I am.
Then everything rushes back in.
Dad, James,
what a marriage means
when it’s “open.”
How they tried to keep it
closed.
Hidden from us.
The city looms,
I want to grab the wheel,
turn the car, drive the other way,
away from this place,
what I used to call
home.