Old Spice
they were the only men who stayed. my fathers, the two who weren’t. Uncle Patrick — dark hair, long sideburns, a day’s stubble and a gentleness that surprised you. peppermint and tobacco, and the Mainstay snort underneath it. he drank too much and loved me tenderly, and I never felt the drink in how he
The School Bus
the morning is a performance we both sign off on. toast, the smell of burnt butter, the kids chewing with their mouths open. we pass the salt, we ask about gym kit, we do the small talk because it keeps the floor steady. then the yellow bus idles at the curb. a rusted chassis spitting