Watching Robbie Knievel Jump the Grand Canyon, 1999
My mom’s first birthday
post-divorce: duplex
in the sidewalkless outskirts of Orlando.
One TV for the four of us.
One bathroom for the four of us.
Two bedrooms for the four of us.
The frogs who made a home
of the window AC cheer
the daredevil on. You can make
a home anywhere, I guess.
We watch Robbie Knievel
rev his motorcycle to achieve
what his father could not,
a second generation dream
dressed all in white. We watch
as he angels through the air,
an inverse Icarus for a few
seconds of flight but a crash landing
is still a landing and a home is
a home is a home.
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