there they are / once a young family

               this family stands between

               the calm and restlessness, backs

               to the trees and sky, the bloated

               sheetmetal of yesteryears heavy 

               automobiles, their romanticized ornaments

               kissing the tree-line, maybe late into summer––

               everything's open to discussion.

               who knows where this family stands?

               someplace planned and executed, or

               the consequence of veering onto the wrong exit, or

               an impulse to adventure,–– but only one

               stands among them to authenticate these findings.

               parents dressed for separate outings

               and who knows which to where?

               first son, heal of his hand pressed

               into an eye’s socket nearly irretrievable.

               second son, still blonde as a german.

               sister, first child closing in on herself,

               pulsar at the hub,––

               this family group stands as early arrivals

               to an unknown destination, and who knows

               where or when or why, yet there they are,––

               and here I sit, writing this early event with

               a retrievable eye, unable to authenticate

               the destination with certainty, and who knows why?