Road Trip
With Child
as the sun rushes out above the highway, you are all bruise and hangnail, gritting your teeth to splinter in this rattling car. abandoned cows moo and decay as we pass. you lose your jaw to your silences.
Margot places her hand on my stomach and looks at me, eyes wide and concerned-like. “How far along are you?” she asks. Shit. I forgot how this works, when is it you start showing? I smile a half-smile, my most attractive smile, and in a hushed voice say, “thirteen weeks or so.” Margot nods at this and I cover her small hand with my own two and lean in significantly. Margot hesitates and then asks, “And you’re happy? Right?” I nod, right. I’m so happy, I’m over the moon. I move her hand from my stomach and onto my thigh. I lean in a little more.
Ryan Halloran
tradition unclots itself. did you think I was talking about my life? a tree lit glows blue in the skyline. a lamp reflects itself in its shadows. you have such high hopes for me, to think that I could be like any one of them. metal unfurls as the car slams solid into median, not something we’re going to think about right now.
Kim Steele
Margot stands up, pulling her hand away. “Well,” she explains, “I better be off.” I nod again and move to stand up too but am overcome with a dizzy spell so I plop right back down on my chair and close my eyes, breathing slowly through pursed lips. Margot sits back down, “Are you alright?” I turn my face to the side and mumble something, eyes still closed, about low blood sugar. I roll down the window and let the gas-soaked highway air course through the car, burning my cheeks and throat with its sharp cold. I smile, a full smile this time, into the night. My stomach growls.
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