First summer dad raced stock cars with the boys
The kids got matching butter yellow shirts
To get us all the action and the noise
With black sixty covered in grease and dirts.
We sat on picnic tables in the pits
Ate sandwich kept in dusty ziploc bag
The smoking engines, scrap metal and hits
Up high the serpent flow of starter’s flag.
Sat tight with mom as sky turned dark charcoal
We jumped and cheered as dad took second place
She dropped her cigarette and burnt a hole
My tracksuit ruin'd but soothed by her embrace.
I watched him fail and win, I watched him try
The sing of tires on track my lullaby.
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About the Creator
Kat
A westcoast modern mystic and mother of two.
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