proximity 

i chose the wrong template. 
meant "stay here" & said "go anywhere."
my beautiful box  
began in the nowhere forests 
where only trees know how to fastfood 
& all neighbors do is search 
with their metal detectors for baby shoes. 
each day the little home moved.
at first it was not noticeable.
just an inch or two that added up 
over months. built a fence
& the walls slowly pushed it flat.
tied a piece of pink yarn to my ankle
when i left so i could find 
my way back. you sent me letters
that arrived by drone. the letters
were always blank but i cherished them.
someone can say how they love you
with their absences. invisible ink
is also a possibility. when were you
coming to visit? i would ask but had
no return address. the house was 
restless though & took 
longer & longer leaps. one morning
i woke up to the deserts lavender sweat
& another day, at the bottom of a lake
i peered out the window &
counted fish hooks. 
every time i am careful 
to forgive my house. 
press hand to bathroom tiles 
& say "you're doing your best."
is everyone doing their best?
no like productivity but
proximity. 
i can't remember the last time
we were within walking distance
when i could, with a paper airplane,
reach you with everything crucial.
next day: a carnival beach. next day:
a sad pennsylvanian strip-mall lined highway.
no messages from others & i start
to wonder if your walls do this too.
one day i wake up to the sound
of the train that used to rattle past
our apartment in mineola.
i bolt up & run to the tracks
incase you are coming back
from an airport. incase there is 
a man waiting there for me.
i go & no one at all gets off the train.
by the time i return the house has
moved on without me. all the telephones
tell me, "i'm sorry" & then go dull.
if you hear this message, lover,
will you keep an eye out for my bed?
if you see it roaming will you
try to call me? i know the odds
of catching such a thing are slim.
i slip my hope in ziploc bags
press the air out & pocket them.
touch my finger to where
the house used to lonely vibrate. 
can i come visit you? can you come
find me? i am in need
of a great re-introduction.
name me something new. cut off my hair.
i'll do anything.