I tried to go to the store,
but drove straight toward
the huge moon.
My car didn’t sprout wings.
I could not fly,
so I turned round
on wobbly tires
back to my life,
stopping though to park,
facing it. Christmas music
blared out the sounds
of impeachment hearings
still echoing in my head.
My father in his wheelchair
watches them all. day. long.
He fell at the bank parking lot.
His hands let go
of his walker while he yelled
at an able bodied white lady
who had parked in handicapped,
so we couldn’t use it.
She denied it even though
a sign clearly marked the space.
He fell while I was two steps ahead
in order to explain to her.
She pulled away and left him
laying on the pavement.
Two strapping black men
whisked him to his feet.
What a relief.
There were tar streaks
on the back of his fleece
and he recracked his rib,
but we made it in with him shouting.
Inside at the teller
he was upset about falling,
but yelled about Donald Trump
while I explained softly
they needed better surveillance
of regular people taking up
the handicapped spaces.
Yesterday impeachment proceedings
blasted on two TVs as I readied him
for a medical appointment.
He said the country is gone.
I changed my profile picture
on Facebook
to one of the American Flag
flying in the park at night,
illuminated.
It reminded me
of The Star Spangled Banner,
that the flag is still there.
Our country will survive.
Nobody liked it.
I hope it is just because
I change my profile picture too much.
My father is an asshole,
but he is still powerful in a bad weak way.
He isn’t right, is he?
Am I gone? Anyone else?
I drove on away from the light.
It was the last full moon of 2019.
