
Sarah Ratermann Beahan
Americana in Triplicate

Americana in Triplicate
A draft.
Every fire truck in the county led the march
Followed by several brightly painted muscle cars and a big rig with signs emblazoned “Crusin’ for a Cause”
the cause was unspecified
Then came three cheerleaders in green and gold
Six Boy Scouts waving a flag
A rusted out silver Dodge Ram with a bed full of merrymakers waving flags for Al’s Saloon,
likely driven by Al himself followed.
Behind the revelers, a woman walked with a rolling cart affixed with poster board signs reading $Bargain Bin$.
The most elaborate float was a boat atop a flatbed trailer christened USS Constitution,
sponsored by the County Republicans.
The whole thing lasted eleven minutes
I checked.
My throat seized up, perhaps from emotion over the whole humble affair,
or because the wildfire smoke made it hard to swallow.
I watched a small girl run up and down the street with a plastic shopping bag
to collect her sweets and
I worried for her lungs.
Seagulls flashed and vanished over the lake, obscured by the haze.
My eyes watered as I squinted to watch.
The neighbor’s barbeque smoke mingled and fraternized with guest plumes from
hundreds of miles away.
Earlier, I saw a woman at the intersection near the big box stores.
She wore a pretty coral jumpsuit and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail
Her poster read
I need help. I have 2 kids. I can’t pay my rent.
I reached into my wallet and fumbled for my farmers market cash
As I pressed it into her hand, she said
I am so sorry
I felt her shame like the heaviness of smoke in my chest
the insistence of her apology like fingers around my throat.
You don’t have to be sorry
I said.
My husband, the driver, began to inch the car forward
mindful of the Audi behind us waiting to turn
Take good care of yourself