when my parents could still pick me up, they would unbuckle me then carry me to bed. sometimes i wasn’t really asleep.
i had been guessing where we were by our speed and the turns made.
grey leather seats cradling me. brother snoozing - soft.
streetlights and night combining, laying shadows on faces like a rotating mobile.
sometimes i was wrong.
somewhere in my stomach pulled part of me in the direction i thought i should be
then sometimes the turns and speeds fell into place like the way my uncle, the tree specialist, would lay pine to rest.