At the upper deck. I tell him its not my hat.
It was connect four & looking for pretzels,
Pizza, fries, a car ride, a finger puppet, a movie theater—
Its been 14 years & she doesn’t leave the house.
Nobody wins at bingo & the bingo jokes are mostly bad.
Frederick the landscape landscape landscape painter— in the hall
a postcard, stamps— unturned & then slipped over,
A thumbtack in the space where the keys weren’t put—
20 a day, where didn’t the fork go, Tomorrow,
tomorrow, & so on, Tuesday’s
the week in its lost count, drowning fingers. He let the arms fall off,
poor Frederick, half my alphabet
is a grey soup & 12 out of 8 participants
can’t do it. I’ve been lost in a tunnel,
I’ve been building.
I have lost my legs, my family, & more importantly
my keys.
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