Author’s Note

This poem records a childhood memory that remained almost impossible to name.

It contains disturbing material involving a child.

Deutsch

Dieses Gedicht hält eine Kindheitserinnerung fest, die sich fast nicht benennen ließ.

Es enthält verstörendes Material, das ein Kind betrifft.

“Take a picture!” the girl in the silver Cadillac shrills.

She screams again, “Take a picture!” Looks at the driver, grinning. Then at her father—seeking approval.

The Cadillac crawls down the Boulevard, heading downtown. Or anywhere else.

There is another girl in the car. A much smaller girl.

Does she smile?

“C’mon, Joycie-chan. Take a picture!”

The father grunts. The driver looks straight ahead. His glasses are thick.

“I’m gonna vomit!” “You mean, you’re nauseous?” the little girl’s mother had asked, elsewhere.

Naw-shuss.

The little girl is wearing a dress. Cotton. White with pink flowers. She pulls up the skirt.

Moving slowly. Traffic. That smog smell. Makes you naw-shuss.

“C’mon, c’mon, do it like always! Take a picture! Iiiii!” She rolls down the window as she screams.

The very little girl pulls down her panties. Like always. She stands on the car seat.

Now, she feels breeze on her bottom.

“Open it! Open it!” Screams piercing.

But the breeze on her bottom is silent.

Obediently she reaches behind.

Does what she’s learned to do.

“Yes!!! Everybody now—take a picture!”

What was that?

What did the other cars see?