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by Colleen T. Reese
She kept a BB-gun in the glove compartmentAnd I always loved that about her.It was a storyTold more often Than the basketball teamAnd the box company. She kept a BB-gun in the glove compartmentAnd I remembered that before The hot rollersAnd bagged milkAnd impossibly painted eyebrowsOn porcelain recreation dolls. Molly laughs, Because she was there, too—Something likeTen years older than me.“She was kind of meanBut on Christmas, She’d wear lipstickAnd give me presents.”And I wonder What it must have been likeTo seeWith adult eyesThat blue velvet recliner.A dim lamp on the end table.Mystery-thriller paper books. But I do see them now,The reasons whyI still find myselfWishingI could’ve carried her nameOr even just the thingsI liked about her.The things she told meShe liked about me When I held her hand in that bed,In our homeAnd not some hospital. DignityAnd Choice. HardAnd then Sweet. She kept a BB-gun in the glove compartmentAnd, How rare a thingTo be a woman lovedThis honestly.About:
Featured in our May 2023 issue, "Craft Fair"