ispy

i tied a string around each of
my teeth with the blue yarn. tethered
to the door knob, i slammed it until
they all came out, dropping onto
an open page of our I SPY books. 
who came here & made such a mess of us?
i tripped you so you'd fall in 
& later apologized. that's what siblings do,
make sure you get thoroughly lost.
i always liked the I SPY pages of
the city-- the roller skaters & 
the corn cob lined fountains. i often
stared into the images with no attempt 
of finding anything. i would see myself
ambling about-- building a home from 
thimbles & dog biscuits. a handful
of gumdrops glows in a stop light. 
as night would come like the spilling
of marbles you would become more frantic,
a need for some sense of order emerging 
in you. so, i'd let you line-up 
the match box cars in rows of five. 
a universe bound by chaos, when
we'd wake up all would be dispersed again.
this was the nature of I SPY gravity.
alone i came to beneath the wooden block
underpass. you told me later that you 
roller over & stabbed your side on 
a pencil. we yelled each other's
names across page after page until
finally reuniting under a colander
like the one mom used to strain the 
wagon wheel pasta & the shells for 
mac & cheese. you told me you didn't
like it-- you didn't like always having
to search for everything in the clutter.
we're older now & the I SPY books have spread
to our childhood bed rooms. when i visit
my parent's house i stumble into
both yours & mine. i don't ask you to
come with me. god cut-out pages
of I SPY books & taped them to the door frames.
tear paper. tear walls. i'm looking for
my teeth in all this mess. you don't
follow me. a folded note on line paper.
a key to a rubble-house. a desk
lamp without a bulb. I SPY a shadow
box with nothing inside. i wish i knew
where those books were. i want to 
build the house of dried corn kernels 
& loose string. you fold your own door
like a paper football-- flick it into 
the tangle. if we hold hands when we
sleep, will gravity still scatter us
like thimbles?