box turtle road

At that kitchen sink in the 1960s I saw a ball of blue lightening emerge from the faucet during an electrical storm and travel across the wall while my cousin Judy screamed in the corner and we were all cast in neon silhouette . An image is frozen in my brain like a negative: the blue-tinged light, Judy’s short hair and her hands over her eyes, Mom’s arms on Judy’s shoulders from behind.

The back of our little house trailing beyond and losing itself in a dark haze, as if we were on a spaceship, hurtling through the accidental galaxy.