invented water 

on our high school senior class trip 
we took buses to baltimore harbor. 
we scurried around each other 
like beetles. our shiny faces
in the gleam of the sun. everything melted
& flowed into the bay. no swimming.
we all sent pieces of our thoughts a float
& watched them hum beside boats.
i told my brother yesterday that right now
all we have are memories of memories.
i tend to invent poetry instead of truth.
i have a memory of all my friends & i 
staring into greenish-blue water of the bay
our faces rippling. the call of a gull.
staying in a place for a whole day 
can give the illusion of home. 
i don't know if we actually peered into the water
or if it's something i use to make sense 
of our wavering bodies. my long blue skirt.
there was a store full of candy at the harbor
& we couldn't buy any because it was too expensive
so we just looked. everything round & pink
& bright. candy is eternal & forgiving.
we went to a science museum & spent a long time 
with the motion devices. they demonstrated newton's laws 
(none of which i remember). a lever & a pulley 
& a track of wooden race cars. a wind tunnel.
we learned a lot about how each other's hands moved.
one girl's wrinkled knuckles & another's wide thumbs.
it is so hard to teach the body departure.
i told my friends i was having so much fun.
maybe i was. maybe i didn't tell them that. 
i hold onto the details. the last event
was a cruise out into the bay. we stood on the deck
of a strange ship & took pictures because 
what else could we have done? i kissed 
my friends on their cheeks. i was in love with everyone
& thankful that it was going to be brief. 
the little ship would dock & together we would all
scatter towards a bus. we would make 
impossible promises to visit each other--
to never grow apart. who did i promise that to?
who promised that to me? i can't remember anymore.
i invent lights on the ship's deck
to light our faces as the sun goes down.
i invent a neutral rhythym because
i don't know what song might have played
on the ship's speakers. we held hands 
& joked that we could all jump into the bay 
with its watering turning black in the dark.
we laughed nervously because we knew 
it was possible the way our energies were
shimmering. the way our fears were sold 
& heavy. i slept on the busy home & 
i missed them all deeply & harshly as if
i were already thirty years older.