dress-up box 

in between these two buildings
i search for lady bugs. 
i bring them baskets of tiny little clothes:
sun hats and white gloves 
and parasols. i play classical music,
a cassette stolen from 
my grandmother's totaled 
golden Oldsmobile before 
it went to car-heaven. i haven't 
found any lady bugs so 
i put the tiny clothing
on my hands & let my hands walk 
along the cool walls of the alley 
as if they're lady bugs. 
they amble gracefully,
an afternoon stroll. i tell
my hands that if they must
they can go ahead & become
lady bugs. i had wanted to find
the insects & ask them 
how they choose a particular
number of dots. i was going
to get to know them
with small talk so that 
i could work up to the big question
where i ask if they would
consider letting my hide
under their abdomen.
i imagine their red domes 
like a planetarium--
the night sky deciding
it wanted to try 
on red for a change. 
i would stay under there 
& everyone would ask 
where i went, not suspecting
that i might be right near by 
simply shielded by 
a lady bug. my lady bug 
hands love it here in
the shade. i watch them 
& tell them to be good
wherever they're off to.
i tell them to find 
some real lady bugs
& invite them over.
i imagine the lady bugs
all having an afternoon party
without me or my hands.
i imagine they probably invited
my grandmother's dead car 
out of pity for it,
being dead & all. i want
the lady bugs to have
pity for me but also
to think i'm ready
to live with them. 
i have practiced 
crawling the walls.
i have practiced holding
my chin up.
i say aloud "five"
that's the number 
of dots i'd have
on my back