I ran all the way to The Commons
to catch a glimpse of the celestial
horse sculpted from ice.
Not an equine in sight.
I should have looked for the aphrodisiac
telephone (off-white version)
in Boom Park
or veiled lady
in Longfellow Park instead.
I think of the forest
behind Chickering Elementary School
where I would go alone
to kill the loneliness
on a playground where the circle dance
children refused to hold my hand.
Not an equine
or lobster in sight.
Just those hot pink lady’s slippers
to beware. So afraid I would step
on one and go to jail.
Not a seahorse anywhere in sight
to protect me.
That time I tripped on the sidewalk
and bloodied my forehead
when I was 18, truth is
I thought I was tripping
on the absinthe I drank that night
from a bottle a college buddy smuggled
in from Spain. The green fairy
and her powers of suggestion,
my excuse for public drunkenness.
Not a lobster
talking on the phone or riding
a horse in sight. And now it’s too late.