we go out to the garage 

where the hula hoops have gone pale & cracked
from trying to throw themselves around the sun
& the lawn mower sits 
on its metal haunches waiting 
to chew up our bare feet.
we go for the stone floor 
& for the bees making their nests 
in the rafters on the opposite side
as the birds. we go to pretend we've moved 
away from our parents house 
& we're on a dirt road to nowhere, 
stopping at this garage 
in the distance where we
set up camp. we talk to the bicycles
like they're horses. we pass back 
& forth a box of saltines 
taken from the cupboard. 
i go venture out to pluck onion grass
from between other prickly weeds--
lovely white globes of translucent skin.
i dream of boiling them with the meat
of a bird we catch with a sling shot.
me & my imagined team are wild farmland children.
if i close my eyes i can see them each so clearly.
i gave them names & quickly forgot them,
thus needing to rename them again & again.
we brought sleeping bags too 
& i let the youngest made-up people sleep beside me
so they weren't afraid of the bees.
i kept watch & made sure
each bee crawled back into the holes
of the hive. the hive was like 
a knot of doors & i thought about 
how much it resembled a garage 
& if maybe the bees were running away 
from their parent's house too & if maybe
half of the bees were imaginary bees
used to keep the other bees company.
i thought of the honey & i was hungry for sugar
so i cried. i wanted so badly to 
flourish in my new home. i wanted
my parents to knock on the door
& me to show them around-- 
point out my frisbees made into dinner plates
& my bowl of onions.
i wiped the dirt off the white onion 
& put it in my mouth whole,
listening for the notes of sweetness
while i pictured the bag of sugar 
by the coffee machine, ladling spoonfuls
of sugar into my mouth.
i drew a TV on the wall in chalk
& scribbled lines on the inside
to indicate static. i opened
the back door of the garage to 
get a look at our house & its windows gone orange 
in the crepuscular blue. the others
urged me on, telling me they would be here
when i came back. ceremoniously we stood
in hula hoops before parting
& i thought of the bees
entering & exiting their hives
how small & soft they were. i saw myself
as a bee, i had to, crawling
back in through the front door,
carrying a bowl of onion grass bulbs.