seesaw farm

tomorrow let's wake up & be echos.
i'll return if you run. decapitated mailboxes
full of coupons & a run away star.
i jump rope until you come back
but you don't come back & so i jump rope
until my arms are crowbars. broken computer screen
& we're all weeping. on the other side
used to be our favorite color. now,
the gas station between here & the seesaw farm.
eating stale twizzlers in the parking lot
& knitting a father into my own voice.
in the trunk is a backpack full of stone.
smoothed by kissing. smoothed by toads.
the work is endless & thorned. the work is
a jump drive & jumper cable. greasing the hinges 
of a hiding place. do not come back for me.
echo & echo. we can both be the visitation.
possessions in airport bathrooms.
empty beauitful ballrooms. the piano plays itself.
the car drives itself. the seesaw asks 
"who is on the other end of the phone call?"
i'm picking up a dial tone so that i can
tell you a poem. bad blood between mountains.
the fish in the dried river. i know
this is what i asked for. this is what
i said i would do. there are so many jungle gyms. 
there are so many half love poems 
& this is one of them. 

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