11/7

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.

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