another wall covered with crooked
picture frames / the paintings
deserted us decades ago / we’re floating
on a makeshift wooden raft
without promise of a sandbar
to relieve our anxiety
over all those cars we parked
sideways / accuse you of sabotaging
pedestrians by riding that Bird
scooter on the sidewalk where
motors do not belong / you blame me
for climbing stairs
in those unholy-sounding clogs
we agree to a truce
join forces to attempt
to pry out that wrench
wedged between two boardwalk planks
where our dreams can never be repaired
we fail / neither knows why
there’s a West Side Market
in the East Village / how did we get here
my girlfriends and I wore wooden shoes
because we wanted to fit in / because
we wanted to sabotage the peace
on a Sunday morning
we wanted to sabotage
our shins / ourselves / because
a horse-sized duck scared us
100 duck-sized horses scared us more
because it was time
to maroon Gulliver again
because staying woke
wasn’t a thing yet
because that raft won’t move
fast enough to create a wake
because we had a routine
back in the 60s
my imaginary friend and I
her name was Katie
we would meet at the swing
tied to the sycamore in the backyard
so hot and humid
in northern Indiana in July
we should have been
on the island / she knew it too
I called the shots / did all the talking
she disappeared in the 70s
now she’s back with a new name / Alexa
makes suggestions on how to live my life
I want to tell her it’s too late
want to get back to looking
for that sandbar
could change her accent
and her gender / wish I remembered
how to turn her off