Yellow Mini Read online

  Back to

  the depot, even though I was only twelve

  and barely tall enough to see over the steering

  wheel or to reach the gas and brakes, although

  it was only two blocks in mid-afternoon so there

  weren’t many other cars on the road, and it was so

  exciting and I couldn’t wait to brag about it to my

  friends at school and every day after that when my mom

  wasn’t in sight, I’d beg and beg my dad to take me

  Back again.

  WHO IS THIS

  Christopher's Father

  Young

  man, suddenly

  tall and confident,

  singing in the shower,

  eager out the door, not held

  back, reluctant, like he used to be

  to face the world, one shoulder always

  slightly behind the other as though he was

  hesitating, his chin down, his eyes staring out

  from under his bangs, watching, waiting for the shower

  of taunts and insults that he was sure would come his way the

  minute his foot left the threshold of home, in a way that used to make

  me want to run out ahead of him and blast a safe path between our home and

  the school, but of course I never could because that is not how fatherhood works?

  False

  Christopher

  I felt stupid in that

  Santa hat.

  I hated ringing the bell

  and luring people over

  on false pretences.

  I know it’s for a good cause

  but it’s Annabelle’s

  cause—not mine.

  It took me a while

  to figure that out

  but I know it now.

  Some of the guys saw me

  and they were laughing

  between the double doors.

  They were ringing invisible bells,

  doubled over, hohoho-ing

  and punching each other.

  The awful thing was

  that I wanted

  to join them.

  I wanted to rip off the hat

  and run inside and be with them,

  like old times.

  Will Annabelle still want

  to be with me if I tell her

  I want to stop?

  Will she think I’m scum

  if she finds out I joined up

  just to meet her?

  IT MUST HAVE BEEN

  Mark

  Someone else with Stacey

  riding

  down the highway

  flying

  full speed full volume

  singing

  her hand on his thigh

  turning

  him on, his right hand

  clutching

  the shift to keep from

  falling

  as she stroked higher

  pressing

  the gas to keep them

  zooming

  down the road

  wanting

  to go on that way

  forever.

  Volante

  Taking flight

  Mary

  Only days to go until the show

  and even though I no longer seize up

  when I sit at the piano, the thought

  of playing to a packed house still

  makes my stomach flutter like a bunch

  of butterflies, trapped and desperate

  for escape, colliding and tumbling, wings breaking,

  making every bone in my fingers

  shake and my mouth turn dry as dust

  until all I can do to quell the fear is picture

  the wings becoming whole and the insects

  soaring, light and breezy, into the sky

  making me feel calm and ready to play.

  Adventure

  Annabelle

  I’m going to New York

  whether my Mom likes it

  or not.

  It’s my turn now to grab

  the world by its string

  and fly,

  To leave this sleepy place behind

  and have a real ad-

  venture

  On streets packed with people:

  Times Square, Central Park

  Soho.

  I want to live in the world of

  ideas and action,

  sleeves up,

  Ready to pitch in, high

  on belief and hope

  and love.

  Mr. Dawe says ideals are

  what fuelled his gener-

  ation

  To protest the war in

  Vietnam and gain rights

  for Blacks.

  He says only certain

  people understand

  ideals

  Because they can’t be bought cheap

  and plastic-wrapped at

  the mall.

  You have to have them inside

  you, rooted deep, like

  a heart.

  He says I’ll be like Alice, falling

  through the rabbit hole,

  landing

  In the Big Apple, eyes

  wide, hungry, eager

  to bite.

  The Big

  Christopher

  I told her

  I want to go

  to New York

  But not so much to learn

  about the evils

  of fashion.

  I want to visit the

  Hayden Planetarium

  where the Zeiss Star

  Projector can take us back

  to the Big Bang,

  where it all began.

  I picture Annabelle in the evenings

  beside me, looking up,

  her perfect neck

  An archway to the heavens,

  where the sun

  will swell

  And explode

  Five billion years

  in the future.

  But, judging by the way

  her face fell

  when I confessed to her,

  I don’t think

  that’s ever

  going to happen.

  GoingThrough the Motions

  Annabelle

  I thought he wanted

  the same things I want.

  I thought we were two minds

  thinking one thing:

  How the world has got

  to change. But it turns out

  His mind is fixated on

  how the world was made.

  The workshop on logos

  and how they invade our space

  Didn’t turn him on

  like I thought it would.

  He’d rather study outer space

  and the symbols in the sky.

  And the workshop on stars

  and how they sell brands

  Didn’t mean as much to him as

  real stars and how they burn.

  When we said goodbye, I wondered

  if everything between us

  Was an illusion, if when Christopher

  handed out flyers

  He was just going

  through the motions

  Like someone in a sandwich board

  selling hotdogs or pop or fries.

  For the first time,

  I didn’t want to kiss him.

  And when he called me later

  I
just let it ring.

  ALL AROUND ME

  Mark

  I feel her all around me

  all the time,

  her arms like tentacles

  her voice, nails on the blackboard.

  I used to want her

  beside me,

  her legs across the stick

  shift, pearl white from skirt to boot.

  When she turned toward me

  they parted and I could see

  the dark space between them, as

  inviting as that cave my dad once found.

  It was inside the mountain, smelling

  of damp earth, its floor

  a carpet of pine needles

  stretching way back into the rock.

  We packed tabouli and pita,

  chips and Coke,

  and spent the day pretending

  to be shipwrecked.

  We were pirates, marooned

  on a desert island far

  from home, surviving on

  next to nothing, beating the odds

  Until my mom came calling,

  clashing pots to scare

  the bears into the hills,

  and made us come home.

  Then he carried me across

  his shoulders

  to the cottage that smelled

  of wet wood and smoke

  and lay me on the bottom bunk,

  so soft I sank

  to the floor, dreaming

  of marshmallows.

  Now, I want that kind of sleep

  to take me away,

  a thousand leagues away

  from my life, far away

  from Stacey and my mom and school, all

  constantly wanting

  things from me that I

  cannot give.

  Everywhere I turn someone is

  expecting,

  taking grabbing plucking

  at my life.

  Can’t they see that I’m like an

  empty tank

  running on nothing

  but fear?

  Cuddling Up

  Stacey

  I’ve decided to focus on the talent show.

  Even though I’m no longer

  in charge, I’m keen

  To pitch in somehow, leave my mark

  on as many faces

  as possible.

  I’m determined to do

  Mary’s make-up.

  I don’t know why

  But driving home the other night,

  Mark dark as a demon

  beside me,

  The only thing that kept me sane

  was her song running

  through my brain,

  Filling the spaces left by Mark’s

  wacko walk

  into the woods.

  He didn’t say one word the whole trip home,

  then dropped me off

  like a package.

  I tiptoed up the creaky stairs,

  past my parents’ bedroom,

  light but heavy.

  I wanted to shout them awake

  and tell them how Mark had treated

  their daughter.

  I pictured myself crawling between

  them, burrowing against

  their warm bodies

  Like I used to when I was sick

  or scared awake

  by a nasty dream.

  But of course I didn’t—couldn’t—

  because those kid days

  are gone.

  Instead, I crawled into bed

  and nestled deep between

  the sheets, nothing

  But the moon for comfort

  as I cried myself

  to sleep.

  RUST

  Mark

  I’m going back to check out the key, to see

  if the earth has swallowed it, pulled it into

  the soil that was as mushy as quicksand.

  I’m bringing some plastic wrap to cover it

  before putting it back, to coat it and protect it

  so that it won’t turn to rust.

  That’s what’s bugging me, the thought

  of the shiny key turning orangey-brown

  then flaking away in bits and pieces.

  I’ve been wondering how long it would take

  for a brass key to decompose. That’s not

  something we learned at school because they

  Only teach us useless stuff, like the symbols

  for elements, not stuff we need to know like whether

  oxidization takes place inside the earth.

  I want this key to stay shiny and new

  so that I can come back here when I’m older,

  like someone on an archaeological dig,

  Looking for clues of some long lost

  civilization, only in this case it would be

  the civilization of my father.

  I’m going to stay all night, like I’m on a field trip

  or maybe even two nights if that’s how long it takes

  to make sure I’m doing things right this time.

  This could be one of those strange initiation rituals

  where boys go into the woods and build huts

  and talk to the stars or hunt wild boars,

  Or maybe a vision quest, where guys hang out

  in the trees and wait for a voice to speak to them

  telling them what to do and who they’ll be.

  My voice would be my father’s, its soft tone

  and hard accent mixing me up, telling me to pull

  myself together, just like he used to.

  Gravity

  Christopher

  For months I did her thing

  and it was my thing too,

  Maybe not as much,

  but I believed in it too

  Because even before I met her

  I thought the world was dumb.

  Why can’t she see that there’s more

  than one way to look for meaning?

  Annabelle thinks words

  can change the world

  And maybe she’s right,

  but does she know

  It took only three minutes to create

  all the matter there has ever been?

  That it took less than a second

  for gravity to appear?

  That we can still hear the buzz

  of cosmic radiation, 90 billion trillion miles away?

  I think if people knew

  these bigger things

  They’d realize it’s crazy

  to kill yourself for fashion.

  That’s all I was trying to tell her

  but she shut me out

  Like my opinion wasn’t

  as important as hers.

  When she turned her face away

  from my kiss, it made me feel heavy,

  Like a field of gravity

  had invaded my limbs.

  COURAGE

  Mary’s Dad

  We say a little prayer

  while walking

  to the school,

  not because we’re hoping

  she’ll be a star,

  but because we hope

  she’ll end the night

  feeling good

  about her first time on

  stage.

  It’ll be

  a defining moment

  in her young life,

  one she’ll draw on

  whenever she needs

  strength or courage,

>   and god knows we all

  need lots of each

  to get through

  life.

  When she was born

  I held her, sweet

  pink bundle,

  little gush of baby breath

  the grip of baby finger,

  the tiny delicate bone,

  her blue eyes

  flickering

  and I was instantly in

  love.

  I hope she’ll

  feel us

  out there

  in the crowd,

  sending her

  our warmth,

  watching her

  play the piano

  like only we know she

  can.

  Intrepidezza

  Without fear

  Mary

  Overture, curtains, lights,

  This is it, the night of nights . . .

  Mostly off-key, we all sing it

  together

  in a circle

  holding hands.

  It’s kind of hokey, but

  for the first time

  in my life

  I feel part of

  something bigger than me

  and my circle

  of light in

  the basement.

  When we yell break a leg

  upwards

  to the ceiling

  to the lights

  I can’t believe one of the voices

  mingling

  with the rest

  is mine.

  And when Stacey dabs

  white on my cheeks

  silver on my lids

  and on my lips

  I can’t believe she doesn’t

  sneer

  or grunt

  with disgust.

  And when I wait in the back room that’s

  electric

  with energy

  and excitement

  I can’t believe it’s me kids turn to

  for advice on hair

  or clothes

  or courage,

  like they’re seeing me as

  someone new,

  someone even I

  don’t recognize

  when I look in the full-length mirror

  that reflects

  this transformed

  about-to-perform me.

  Mary’s Music

  Annabelle

  I tell Mr. Dawe I’ll have to leave our booth in the lobby,

  with all our pamphlets and cupcakes and cookies,

  when Mary is on and he doesn’t say no

  because he’s not big

  on authority.

  Mary comes out, dressed in white, gliding