Soaring
Daniel Gallik
Begins with the earth, she said
as she felt the freedom of another night
wasted on good luck. A meal.
And a way to drive all over town,
see the sights, and taste
the various beers of Akron. He was
there with her. Felt the same way.
Nine to five, worked the same job. And
had the same ambitions. Not one.
After a few brews one eve they wandered
up Thirteenth St. hill to laugh
at the city of their birth. Did not
this night. Linda decided to drive off
the wet st. and fly at a hundred miles
per into the downtown. Only made
Manchester Rd. In the rubble she
was still breathing. Mikee had headed
through the windshield. Smiling.
L died on the way to the hosp. Moms
and dads cried at 2am. Thought
funeral thoughts and how to tell
the other kids, relatives, newspapers.
Other kids laughed at first. God,
oh God, hadn’t done a damn thing
except made the same old story known.
That boredom is best when raising kids.
And cheaper. But not better for freedom.
Nor heavy clouds. Nor poems. Nor stories
of magnificence that fling humans
into behaving as misbegotten wanderers.
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