vacancy 

we were in oklahoma when 
my ids started to vacant themselves.
i opened my wallet to find
my little portrait had escaped from my license
& then, worse, my passport. i don't 
even think i can get one of those anymore
on account of the fascism. 
the land was flat there & you could see
someone winking from miles away.
i stared out & could not find where
that small body had run to. i searched 
in the fields & beneath a pecan tree 
& in the guts of a ripe persimmon (so sweet).
i missed the abundance of trees
where i'm from in pennsylvania's 
brushy brows. next came my credit cards.
they vacated my name. became nothing
but plastic & hunger. i chewed them
as we drove & laughed. i tried writing
my name back but it would not stick.
i even lost the image of me from the 
expired license & the id from my old school
where i am not smiling & my dead name
was printed like a threat
in horrible letters. i did not tell my partner. 
i wanted to figure this out myself. 
i bought a neon sign that said, "vacancy"
in the hopes that someone, anyone 
would come & take up residence,
no matter how brief, in my cards.
there are rooms the size of refrigerators 
& rooms the size of tongues. 
i eventually found my parts. they were
on the shore of a man-dug lake
that smelled like rotten apples. i picked 
myselves up. considered leaving them there.
what if i escaped my own faces? where would
the rest of me go? i washed my forms off
in the questionable water & pressed 
my teeth & eyes back into the cards. 
birds haloed in the air as if to suggest,
"maybe there is someone dying."
once back in the hotel, i went into 
the bathroom & laid all the ids & credit cards
out on the floor & stared at them
to make sure they were really back.
people still call me about the vacancy sign.
once in while, one will arrive at my door
& i will let them sleep in my portrait 
for the night. we should make room
when one another are lost. i wonder 
sometimes if my likeness slept elsewhere
while they were lost. regardless,
they are not willing to tell me.