You doubled in spiked heels with a wooden
Louisville Slugger followed by a double header
for oglers-in-training . . . the gearbox
of your Suzuki mimicking the Uggs
you carried in your backpack
for occasional rock-a-days
shredding dirt bikes under the Passaic Falls
as bewildered as pointers in a perfumery
their words baseball trading cards
holding tickets to a Saturday Creature Double Feature
rarely searching for lost time
as memorialized by a closeted deadhead
scalping instructions for Around the World with a Yo-yo . . .
The passing of notes in your cube
trialed the lifespan of Bics, scribbling spam
for residents of Williams's Ghost Town
awestruck by the pediatrician's It's all in the ear . . .
You journeyed elsewhere with a Moleskine notebook
capturing comments from the fringe . . .
your never-ending tour rivaling Rimbaud's Illuminations . . .
There were moments when it seemed to all come together
but those were dreamscapes from a Five & Dime
that shipped closeouts to dugouts
when security was busy resetting cameras
while superimposing fairytale footage for power trippers . . .
It turned out to be the luck of the draw . . .
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| Eva Tokarchuk |