Family Walk

The blistering wind races across the park.
Wheels of a minivan come to a stop.
Children climb out.
A disgruntled teen wraps a scarf around his face.
His main concern should be his high-water pants.
He’s grown at an alarming rate.
The budding pre-teen girl clutching her Christmas puppy.
She hasn’t discovered the hair dryer yet.
But she has gotten into her mother lipstick.
The careworn father steps out.
He is quick to light a cigarette.
Father is always under immense stress.
The smoke fills his lungs as be blows out his soul.
Mom quickly races to the third row.
The source of the father’s stress is revealed.
A newly born accident baby sits in the stroller.
Mom still is muttering under her breath about the broken condom.
Everyone is miserable.
Today is the forced family walk.
Chapstick is passed around.
Maintain sanity.
Show unity.
The foundation of the family walk.
A walk around the mall would have done suffice.
Window shopping and sharing a Cinnabon would have been nice.
Verses going down a slide that a bum slept in last night.
The park is free, as any money goes to the crying mistake.
As the older children have nothing but lint in their pockets.
Everyone is married to the idea of the family walk.
Yet at home its division.
Everyone in their own separate rooms.
Exchanging pleasantries in the hallway.
The dinner bell forces superficial conversations.
Until the trough is empty.
Yet in a public place.
A happy face must be worn.
The family walk turns into a zoo.
People pass by and marvel at the family unit.
It’s so rare to see it in the wild.
When the zoo closes.
Everyone retreats to their caves.
And isn’t seen again.
Until the family walk.

Steven Kish is a writer whose style is a stream of consciousness mixed with dirty realism. He has endured childhood trauma, and is a survivor of suicide. As a survivor of suicide, Steve is an advocate for people who suffer from mental health issues. He believes his poetry can bring awareness to mental health and heal a community.