can a stone be skipped over any surface
and still have the same ending?
on top of the abandoned movie theater,
gently whipping pebbles into the sun’s open
mouth, the posable stutter-
arc of its bottom lip versus the easy-to-please
arc of my wrists—tired of holding others.
everything in this town—scratched-out coordinates and teenagers
who are too wise to not know where to roam:
the forgotten downtown mini-mall, ten-ton chapel, airport.
I fight for places to call mine like dormant pennies
deemed “lucky” upon discovery, recline into fists called home.
the kid who drowned in the river the other day is on my mind;
he makes me think I should stop jumping off bridges so often.
then again, all my friends are either jumping off bridges
or smoking weed underneath them—borne
ceaselessly into the floodwaters. they are the ignored death
toll in a video game, the straight path that never looks back—
they reply Strongly Agree to every pessimistic trick question
on a job application, simply too honest to be good-natured.
and who’d have thought we’d move on lickety-split? so carefree.
I hear it now, that addictive sound of moving water and smoke
at the abandoned riverside, drowning him, me, them.
you’re here on this edifice with me, but I don’t really address you.
I just wanted to come here alone and think about
the proclivity of body to water, and you’re
something like hallelujah meets break dance, or
maybe I-want-to-wake-up-with-you-in-my-arms arbitrary,
though we haven’t reached that shade of war paint.
we open up to one another like bloody noses;
just tassel-tongued and satchel-hearted individuals!
you’re riding on my back now, so I move slowly
about the sun, though I’m barefoot and the roof-pebbles
are like hot coals; yet again, my inclination to
give up something of myself for you for reasons unknown.
I just wanted to come up here, relax with a backpack
of peelable fruit, and stare at the oiled horizon,
watch the abandoned airport take off.