The End of Summer After His Second Marriage

Barbie doll in hand,
they push her sobbing
into the front seat.

6 years of living
hadn't prepared her
for 5 hours encased in bus

an absent driver
side-glancing by request
at her and cross-armed

sister. They journey
west-ward, their mother
called after boarding

and a wave goodbye, too
late to follow promises
of a lincoln town

car ride home
by a father occupied by
brand new family games.

Photo by Space Ritual; Poetry by Heather Taylor