The Race

Two young boys play in an abandoned car.
Weeds spiral around the flat fires.
In their young minds the car does a hundred
and the dents have been smoothed over.

For now they have forgotten they are hungry
As the race down the track of young dreams.
This is Sunday morning and Sunday mornings
have been the same for a while.

From the small mobile home comes a scream.
The clatter of broken glass, the clang of goods
being thrown as their mother takes another beating.
As long as they stay in the car they feel safe.

They swallow their fear and hide under the dash.
They hear him shout as a beer bottle smashes
through the front window, like it did a few weeks ago.
A large man staggers to his car and drives away.

After a few moments the boys peek over the dash
to make sure he is gone. Their mother comes out
the front door. She sees the window and swears.
She nurses her eye and calls for her boys.

They look at each other with innocent eyes
The oldest waves his hand and she sees them.
With that she returns inside and goes to bed.
The boys begin to drive their race car again.

They begin to laugh like little boys are supposed to.
In the back of their minds they see the man
and act like they are cops gunning him down.
They don’t know they are racing him down the same road.