Member-only story
Can I Have
A yellow tree sheds seasonal tears
over a cement track where shots fired
and feet scrambled toward ribbons broke
and water lost; sunny blue on blue
where kids become eagles, flying off
to make their own memories on grass
in other towns. You must have seen we
were giving away bikes to striving children.
You smiled in language, gestured to our
small bikes, measuring the ground over
and over with your flattened hand,
showing me how high the water has risen,
a hole in your blue shirt floating just
above your right nipple. You couldn’t
get what you wanted: To be seen,
to be heard, to be given, to walk
triumphant in the eyes for provisions
provided. As you agitated back beyond
the fence and crossed the street, I watched
you drift down the sidewalk, talking
to yourself — a technicolor human,
fading to gray, as credits begin to roll.
© Trapper Markelz 2020
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