pickling the photographs i told you we missed the exit. drove eight more states & then we snapped a shot of us beneath the belly of a giant moose. all of you teeth fell out & we had to follow the trail to the valley of death. i promised if we made it out alive, i would be your daughter. a straw hat. a strawberry field. nothing is forever but especially not family. there is the immediate kissed on the forehead & then there is the mutation process. sometimes i think how many times can i change my gender? i am a flipbook. watch me rubber ball. this is not a picture of us anymore. it's a picture of who we thought we were to each other.