Breadcrumb #517
GABRIELLA EVERGREEN
It was the summer we took the RV to a campground in Florida
(or maybe it was Vermont)
We sat in the back, me and my two brothers
where Andrew had once dropped a McDonald’s cheeseburger between the seats
I remember the sound of your shouts
and your fists coming down on his head
but anyway,
We were watching a VHS tape of Disney’s Robin Hood when the crash happened
We didn’t notice until the car was spinning and flipping
(at least we remember it flipping)
and landed off the side of the highway
the overhead compartments spilled out
a butter cookie tin full of crayons
rained down on us
a container of milk shattered on Nick’s head (he still has the scar)
Your miniature motorcycle fell against mom’s leg
marking it black and blue
she always hated that bike it was black and yellow and heavy
We don’t know what caused the crash (your anger?)
or what happened after (your anger)
I just remember the campground once we got there
the way the light from the lanterns and campfires of scattered tents
half-illuminated the woods
as we walked through the thick trees
shining flashlights on roots and stumps
looking for the source of the bullfrog’s croaks
but only finding a spot where some kid
had spilled a bowl of Froot Loops
which glowed in a puddle of graying milk
and the sound of a man playing guitar
singing Puff the Magic Dragon
We didn’t know that mom never wanted you to get the rental car or to finish the trip
how unhappy she must have been the whole time
We can’t really be sure
what the bruises
were ever from