Eastgate

Here's day eleven's submission of NaPoWriMo (a poem a day for the month of April in honor of National Poetry Month).

Eastgate

The parking lot

on the east end of town -

Happy Burger on the far end

Rexall Drug on the other.

The outdoor arcade had

nine trampolines covering holes in the ground

a dollar for half-an-hour.

I learned to backflip at thirteen:

throw my knees over my head

and trust the force

of my own momentum

against my worst fears.

Years later I raced your car

full of teenaged friends from high school

to Hap’s for  a drive-through

double cheese, fries and a Coke

sucked down as we cruised back.

Sometimes late at night

you would hand me a five-dollar bill

and send me to buy a carton of Kools

from Rexall's after you had run out

and had no other way

of killing yourself.

“Drive careful,” you’d say.