WRECK PARK

ISSUE NO. 0.2

Sarah Sala, rt By Sean Robert Fitzgerald

SARAH
SALA

STREET NAME UNKNOWN


You had to be in another
city for a drug deal
and couldn’t be late.
Red car idling in the street,
you said I wish it could be different.
Blocks from the rental house
you unlocked the doors
and forced me out. Streetlights
spotty from the snow, the icy slush
soaked through my cotton socks and formed
a painful layer around the inside
of my sneakers. In High school,
we’d watch movies like Trainspotting,
until just before the sun came up—
your parents out all night
cleaning the funeral home.
Whenever my mother drove
anywhere, she floored it
the whole way. I grew up
thinking love’s price
was nerve.