Teeny Tiny Press by Amanda Laughtland

I don't know if it's still like this, but it used to be you could drive over the top of the dam on Baker Lake. I don't usually write about being a kid, but I got this idea after reading the following prompt in In the Palm of Your Hand by Steve Kowit: "Recall something that happened many years ago near a body of water." Baker Lake Dad takes the narrow road over the top of the dam. In the back seat, we study the lake like cats regard what’s behind a shower curtain. We hear each pebble under the tires of the Malibu, watch waves lap the dam, through the residue of window decals Dad tried to remove.

It's still so dark in the morning. I usually sleep in, but sometimes I wake up early. I guess the events of this poem actually took place at like 5 in the morning, but it felt like the middle of the night. Is it a shame that my poems don't have more "original" titles? I don't like to push it. Well, I like that this poem fits in with my "weather" series. Also, I really like looking at the snow. Middle of the Night Woke up a little shook up from dreams I couldn’t remember, took my pills, looked out between the blinds. Snow had piled up while I slept, everyone’s yards blurred together under an unseen moon.