Storylines

The way things are going, children

will have to upgrade to more amusing.

No one could say that when

the highway snapped in two,

he saved her, then wandered off

and later did not remember. In hell,

on an airplane, in a theater, on a tightrope

made of light—no one said there was

no plot, but everything fell where

it belonged and roused conflicting

ecstasies. There is no paper, no pages

to burn. He saved her but did not

see her. He and his friend tried

to resurrect a man they both had

spoken with, but since they could not

agree, the third person doesn’t exist.

How is anyone kissing anyone

possible. Events have to poke

through almost every story; it’s how

they work, otherwise more people will

feel disappointed. A parking lot

where couples go to argue, a neighbor

looking cautiously down—to be caught

watching is to enter the argument,

which changes its character.

Another relationship to narrative,

almost legible. Next, no children

at the party, but everyone wants

pictures of the dog. The store

closing, the train stopping, the man

the others know and then evade.

What lay over the hill was unavailable

before they stepped into their voices.

Not singing, no song to describe.

Even the boys check their hands when

someone says GIRL HOLDING A SNAKE,

to make sure they aren’t the girl.