it was our privilege
to watch la bamba in the master bedroom
our preteen bellies full of linguine with canned clam sauce
prone posed and upside down
on the queen meant for three princesses
screech singing unknowingly incorrectly
at the top of our lungs hearts tonsils
gasping over the sudden and fatal coin tossed plane crash
the twenty one year old family cat observing us from the shag
we grip each others hands too tightly to feel any pain
in our fingers hearts preteen minds
no premonition
no present fear
that ten years later one of us would die
in a classically tragic car crash
just out of life’s turbulence
amidst the hope of
heads up