EulogyI.Eulogy by Aumnren
The sailors my dad worked with
when he was in the fishing business
said that the Pacific ocean is so large
it has no memory. My dad had friends
buried at sea, their bodies dropped into
the churning waves of that great western
god. It wasn't that they wanted to be forgotten,
they just wanted to be let go.
in Atlanta, I tired the coasts closest to home first.
The Atlantic was too cold. The waters reminded
me of floating icebergs, like the ones that sunk
the Titanic. I'm not one for DeCaprio films,
but being let go into a freezing ocean, to drown
in the dark depthsthat all just seemed too much
like remembering. So I went south and west
a little to the gulf
RoadYou said Kansas was too flatRoad by Scarlettletters
and dry, nothing but a sullen map
in the dust as the truck lumbered
down the highway.
I watched you slug back
bottle after bottle of malt liquor,
tossing the bodies in the back seat.
Dead cowboys you called them,
your jaw spoiling for a fight.
I kept my hands on the wheel
and watched the heat move sideways
through the wheat,
trying to pretend your chin lived
somewhere else and that the sun
had something more important
to do than watch me drive.
We ate egg salad sandwiches the way
your mother made them - too much salt
and celery and without the crusts
and drank grape soda warm and fizzing
from the cans and I prayed the rain
would soften the landscape and
lull you to sleep.
The radio was a better friend than me
peeling the vinyl off the dashboard.
I listened while Glen fixed another
heart in Wichita and you drowned
your hangover in some dogeared novel
you found in a gas station bathroom.
And we just drove
with the sound of people