Gravidas Earth

GRAVIDAS EARTH the turntable in a whorl, my thumbprint distinct on 45’s and 78’s and the cover near the door, spewed upon - i forgive you my roommate-sister, it’s only cardboard. afterall, how’d we know, the future would auction our records, flatsie and dawn dolls, past 2000 — we couldn’t even imagine. i’m way off track, follow the grooves behind me, the moves that define me, the hairstyle without mousse, cut and blown as i run, always run for the bus. i’m still running but I’m never late. out the door, down a couple steps of baked cement — i think there is a porch now — i could sled the snowy drive, steep but the road’s at my feet so i walk with a heavy plaid coat and snazzy boots to the stop. one highschooler didn’t stay long — he caught the bus to another place, no time to wave. the road named after his kin. the bus arrives, don’t miss it a bit — so loud with its popular crowd. the school had a fountain, where we’d wash our hands where the restrooms were still for boys and girls. our physics teacher gave us speed, well the formula, as we hoisted ourselves out the window with ticker tape — did i say i, no - not i, I wasn’t brave enough, not ready to die. but a boy whose daddy taught biology drowned in the clouds of a lake. i mixed his tears with my own. why cherry pick the incidents of the oldest kid — she lurks in shadows remembering the haunts of others. Lexie C gallops with her friend the horse through the valley of our hearts. she’s the queen that sat beside me in French class. she deserted us after graduation, taking a one way road to her heavenly destination. she will always be young with Scarlet’s hair and dark glasses, missing what the rest of us learned in our education on this gravidas earth. 7/2/2019 *Scarlet refers to Scarlet O’Hara of Gone With the Wind fame