blurry, half-sleep thoughts of a plane landing
and the scream of rubber on hot cement
streetsides lined in towering McDonalds signs
and my grandmother, ant-like between them
the schoolbus yellow – too bright
my cousin’s smile – four years old, but new to me
the alien before-dinner prayer (I don’t know the words)
threats of mouths washed out with soap
and then the leaving.
