The Sickies

I tell you
we can’t go to the museum
cus everyone has “the sickies”

so we pile
in the car
and head to the beach
to collect rocks
intrepid archeologists
in 30 degree weather

You load my pockets
and yell at me
when I skip a few of our finds
into Lake Superior
and pretend you’re an airplane
while your mother smiles
at the crashing waves
and daydreams of Obama
and going out for boulevardiers
and charcuterie plates

on the ride home
I hold in my pee
(the bathrooms at the beach were closed cus of the sickies)
we listen to the Frozen soundtrack
and discuss dinner
maybe tacos maybe chicken tenders maybe both
as we ride past the houses lined with rainbows
out of the end
and into the beginning

© 2020 Lee Kitzis