Tumbleweed, Beck Chason-McCarthy

Damp hair unraveling from a bun or braid at sundown

Sending spirals of floral Fructis fragrance

The swish of cargo pants

Tight white cotton t shirts pulled down to the palms of her hands

Fingers with Talons curving the over the tips

When I ask she says “I made a lot of mistakes when I was younger.”

But I think she is perfect and beautiful

She leaves glitter in our floorboards

And it’s still there when we move away a decade later

On snow days we grab mugs and go outside to our little patch of earth

Chicken wire bordered by the plastics factory parking lot

scoop up the freshly fallen crystals

Run inside and drizzle Grade A maple syrup from steamboat landing

Two decades later and my mom mentions how we’re alike

and you can tell by her tone that it’s an insult and a disappointment and a warning all rolled up

into one.

She greets us at the airport with a hug each

Stale beer on her breath, foreign and adult

Heading out she throws a dress on bra less and tosses underwear in a bag she slings over her

shoulder

Woken up by the smell of mangoes and fresh bread; baguettes who’s growth was stunted by the

strong coffee they grow here

There’s a market outside my window every week and my mother gets me starfruit and kiwi to try

even though she’s allergic

When we go out to eat I like the mouth feel of saying maracuja more than I like drinking it

Sleeping on the beach the last time she sees us all she asks “can all the kids sleep in your tent? I

wanna have sex tonight.”

When they split she stays in touch by swapping sides

The Stranger on The Plane isn’t a stranger, but an ex of a law school legend

Hannah lucks out and gets to play spider solitaire for 5 hours

A handful of years later she’s my best friends stepmom

So I get the Stranger on the Plane for Saturday night Sleepovers

She asks how I am every time

And I’m too truthful while everyone else is getting snacks

We all pretend for 3 months that they’re just friends

Driving an hour every weekend past albino deer

But when she walks in to tell us what we already know she flashes a rock and my Jaw drops

So for five years I’m upgraded from two to three parents

Long distance and addiction make it a part time job though

The downside to WASPs is that they sting

So by the time we’re finishing Freshman year and the relationship isn’t Fresh anymore

old patterns resurface

The thing is

when people tell you who you are you should believe them

So when I heard “everyone relapses eventually” that should have been like a trip to Pamplona

The thing is

On this side of the Atlantic the people who court bulls are clowns

The thing is

When things got serious you gave me makeup

The thing is

When things got sour I dyed my hair and cut it short

The thing is

When I went to school bright blue, a girl tugged on my crown to see if it was a wig

And the thing is

It was real and rooted

And the thing is

They were all rootless

And the thing is

Without the prairie grass that used to run deep everything is a dust bowl

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come to where the flavor is. Eric Turner

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To Have and to Hold, Maya Montena