ball pit

i will be in the ball pit at the very bottom.
do not dig for me. i am trying
to remember how to have a body.
i think i used to know but i might be wrong.
memory is a jump rope place where 
every story folds backwards. 
i sometimes hear
the sound of plastic in the sky.
not like a plastic bag but like the plastic balls
kissing each other on the forehead. 
you hate the texture of plastic. when we 
got together you made me throw out
all the plastic hangers i had. we replaced
them with wood. i did not mind but
a part of me missed my horrible skeletons. 
the way they mirrored whatever i have
for ribs. as a child i saw dinosaurs in the coat hangers.
two-fold, both from the femurs & from 
the oil. there is nothing more jurassic than
a ball pit. i find a fossil. the fossil finds me.
asks how i would like the archeologists
to discover me. i explain, "i would prefer
not to be discovered." the fossils laugh.
the oil laughs. the balls part. someone 
is walking in the sea. i immediately think
it it probably my brother even though i haven't
seen him in weeks. once i sent a paper airplane
out the window & it never came down. 
turned into a 747 & got this with capital. 
it filled with ball pits. it filled with brothers.
your siblings are always in the ball pit too.
that is the rule of matter. you can only
escape yourself as far as a mirror.
the balls are not good at blocking out light.
instead, they make a tragic stained glass.
holy worm. ave maria. if you find me
please don't give me away. i want
to spend the rest of my life here
in the ball pit. i am convinced my softness
rests somewhere here. i move my hands
across the bottom, sifting for it.
when i find it, i am going to hold on
as tight as i can. i am going to hold on
so tight that i become oil. then, i guess
there will be no where for me to run.