The day you caught me
kissing statues
underwater
with temporary tattoos
all down my arms like
a parade of lost dogs
baying
at the noises from the house
across the street with
the white balloons
tied to the mailbox which
cast a shadow
long across the yard
that smelled like a brew
of sky and earth and
the parking lot
at the aviary where
the things inside once
crosshatched the sky and
rained a storm of silver beetles
down to earth
where girls would catch them
in their hair and
walk away
thirty-five years older with
airplane tickets sewn
up under the hems
of their skirts--
was a good day
And I knew then that
the only thing I would
ever tether my heart to
was an idea.
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