On the banks of my grandmother’s creek;
Freezing cold water over warm-blooded toes
We learned the Ammonoosuc won’t kill you, all it is is cold /
If your car plunges down into it, slowly exhale while ascending to avoid the bends,
And if you happen to make contact with something living down there, if you can see through the turbidity, smile and wave and act like you live there too /
Wait until the car fills full before attempting to exit, and remember how your father chose this exact model for it’s safety features /
And if we’re now speaking of fathers, we may as well cry for their childhoods,
They turned out better men than they were supposed to
We listen to classic rock radio in the safe car your safe man of a father bought for you /
It’s an eight minute drive into our one-stop-light town,
It’s not the one we started growing up in, but it’s the one we grow up in now and that’s enough
Elliot Brodeur (She/They) is a queer poet located in Vermont. She’s scared of large crowds, a lover of knit sweaters, and displays a stunning lack of awareness over how loud she’s talking. They’re featured in Metachrosis Literary, Troublemaker Firestarter, and Bodyfluids. They can also be found shit-posting on twitter at @tigersateyourmom
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