I’m pent
up without words
locked lip to lip
calls and clicks
crest my ears.
I can hear for the first time.
Like holding doors
for tiny, intrepid octogenarians
and visiting with ease,
those names
marked by a blue-capped pin.

The memories enact your footsteps
on the snake-like pattern
laid across green summer grass.
You made sure to have jeans with torn knees.
Your masculine eyeliner
made so many girls swoon, heady
with sex none knew
except for the miasma
that crossed their noses
and shook their fathers’
hearts.

This very moment
I lose 20 years
and begin to see the projection
cast against walls
with the weak
power of a camera obscura.
But no one watches movies anymore.
Rely on the
unreliable with affect and
indignation
and what your eyes close
to see.