My sister said, wouldn’t it be something if we found that fucker’s bones?
And two weeks later we did.
Through the forest, and down to the dunes, my Daddy’s skeleton jutting out from the sand.
Skull polished smooth by the wind.
A ’34 Ford decays in the woods, stoic and stuck forever….rust and copper and whisky…stuck forever.
Dark music swirls among and through the branches of trees
like black smoke, like atomic vines curling time-lapsed and fast towards me or the sky or the inevitable.
Or the inevitable me.
We sat in the car, tripping, and talked about color and light and my sister asked if I killed him.
I said no, and she said, good thing you got an alibi, huh.
I shut my eyes and imagined the Ford was going a million miles an hour away from here, and that I could always protect my sister, no matter what.
I opened my eyes and she was asleep.
I held her in my arms and sang her soft songs till the sun came up.
Then I buried that dead fucker’s bones deeper.