Bonham Lake

Uncle Tony’s truck / backs up next to a ragged picnic table / The rusty tailgate scratches against my sunburnt shoulders / as I slouch / into a faded-blue foldable lawn chair / Wearing swimming shorts and a bikini top that covered my stomach / a flip-flop tan line / arches high on my toes / I get up to grab a hot dog / knowing / grill marks / means it's well done / An ice chest by the grill / two chilled 6-packs not for me / the cooler acting as a seat for my Aunt / holds bottles of juice for the kids / Excuse me Aunt Lisa / politely reach arm deep / ice melted / freezing cold water / pluck out a blue juice / My arm is cold as I pass my younger cousins who argue / But I wanna play with the big water-gun / No, it’s still my turn / Uncles almost step on me as they hoard around grandpa / Jokes of giving him a kiss on the cheek / his face going red / Get gone! I’m not gay! / Everyone laughing in an octave lower / the more comfortable you are with someone / the more comfortable your voice gets in your throat / but I don't speak / I sit in my chair / I think I hate camping / Mama and Sister / also hate camping / zips out of the tent after I fall asleep / So, I'm left tossing and turning over / rocks/ twigs / and beer-bottle caps / sticking through the plastic floor / into the fluff of my sleeping bag.

*This poem is from my poetry book, Speak Melton Love (not yet published). It's about growing up with a big family but still feeling alone even as we all gather around a lake to go camping.

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