That I sit here
surrounded by
crayon drawings
of big headed girls
(she’s in her big head phase)
and photographs of family
sometimes startles me,
as
looking back,
I identified with
(then) planet Pluto.
The smallest
furthest away
speck of a world
and I marvel
at the collisions
which brought me
here.
Center.
One last call.
One last obligation it seems
and with no answer
we head out,
down the highway.
Travelling, at first,
the same way we travelled
on our last trip - toward Detroit
and Comerica Park.
But we veer off,
toward Ohio. Toledo
and beyond.
And it seems
that we buried our family.
First Mom, then Dad, now you,
my brother.
Now it’s me
and our sisters
but the glue is in the ground
and I know that the final pages
of the family album
will flutter free on the wind.
Never filled.
