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Maker Of Things
Laura Stevenson
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I was maybe eight or nine
And that made Katie maybe nine or maybe ten
And we weren't far when we stopped
From our mom's in a parking lot, a fill station
And arguing as sisters tend to do, to do, to do
And it's you, it's you, it's you, you paid for gas in cash inside
And from his window, the attendant
Watched you charging at the car
Rip it open, come down hard
And your force was more fit for a peer of yours
All I hear, I can hear my sister insisting
"Open up and get it over," look across
A woman frozen watching as she pumps her gas
And our eyes met
And I hit the lock when our eyes met
When our eyes met
And now I drive by, it's an empty lot
It's been like that for a while, all fenced in with "for sale" signs
I don't feel small, I don't wince, I'm not ashamed
I feel big, I push back, only time I did that
I was a maker of things
And you were alone in your rage
When I hit the lock and our eyes met
And I hit the lock when our eyes met
And I felt it stop when our eyes met
When our eyes met, when our eyes met
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