i have this story
a memory
i was a child, a baby really
at the fabric's hem of consciousness and awareness
life and memories of life
i was three, maybe four
my father
the man with the dimples in his skin
beer on his breath
a glint in his gaze
one eye had a birthmark on the iris
like a punched out hole piece of paper took a shining to his ocular
i remember we were flying
the road signs were German
and the streets, cobble
i wore no seatbelt
i wore no helmet
we were on his motorcycle
and we were flying
i was three, maybe four
my father, the drinker
my father, the profane
the loud talker so you'd recognize that he could always increase the volume
he drove his baby girl around on his Harley in Heidelberg
and dared anyone to say anything
my mom got real good at biting her tongue
i was a child
i have this memory
a memory
i was a child, a baby really
at the fabric's hem of consciousness and awareness
life and memories of life
i was three, maybe four
my father
the man with the dimples in his skin
beer on his breath
a glint in his gaze
one eye had a birthmark on the iris
like a punched out hole piece of paper took a shining to his ocular
i remember we were flying
the road signs were German
and the streets, cobble
i wore no seatbelt
i wore no helmet
we were on his motorcycle
and we were flying
i was three, maybe four
my father, the drinker
my father, the profane
the loud talker so you'd recognize that he could always increase the volume
he drove his baby girl around on his Harley in Heidelberg
and dared anyone to say anything
my mom got real good at biting her tongue
i was a child
i have this memory
✱✱✱
Selah Mitchell is a twenty-something navigating adulthood with the help of coffee, art, and 90s tv shows on Netflix. Drop her a line @sacriluna on twitter/instagram.
