Salty Linings Playbook

James Bowden

My legs are shaky. It seems to stem from the calves. By now, I know
better. Unsteadiness begins in the foundation beneath my feet.

Observation: tears sting my face skin. I allow them to dry there: a relic.
It is tomorrow afternoon now, and still I have not washed of them.

I do not want to believe that he is incapable. I do not want to accept
his faults as pathological. The only father we have. To leave him for lost,

to leave us lost, too.

—

My brothers bike circles about me while I walk, new cupcake maker in
hand. To be alone and together. Little ones: I am going to bake you a cake,
no, several cups of cakes, where love comes only as sugar. Where intent
turns to sweetness directly. No debt looming combustible over our meek
heads. Just sugar. Just sugar, and bits of salt cracking off my cheeks.