because she needed a reason to quit cheerleading
because my dad just bought a Camaro & the two of them looked very cool in it
for two kids who grew up getting their backs beaten
because she wanted to attend my soccer games & leave at halftime
when the team was losing because she enjoyed the discount grocery store
the smell of it like stale bread & Kix
because she didn’t have anyone else
because she wanted to take up smoking in the garage after bedtime
because she wanted me to walk into the garage after bedtime
to tell her condescendingly that cigarettes can kill you
because she wanted to have a daughter who beat teen pregnancy
because she wanted to teach me how to leave a man
who won’t go down on you because she finds it intimate
to put steroid cream on my psoriasis & make jokes about how I burn my ass
every morning in the shower because she wanted to tell me to pick
two things off the dollar menu for dinner because
generational trauma becomes stagnant without a new recipient
because she wanted to show me how to wash bathtubs with baking soda
and vinegar because she needed me with her at the science museum
when she miscarried because she knew I’d need her to dye my hair
after Bobby & I had sex in his basement before he left for college
because she wanted me to be the first in the family to receive a bachelor’s degree
because first-born daughters are abrupt & honest & she needed that
because without me she would have walked
on the train tracks with headphones in or done heroin
because she knew I’d need her to explain how much it hurts
to lose someone because she knew we’d both need someone
to fill the space
because she knew someday she’d call
when the memories felt a little less sharp
a wound that takes two hands to hold a blunted edge
to run our thumbs over.
