I have lost the film.
The auditorium
with the garden in the center
fills with students
with light bulbs
for eyes. Because
planners decided
not to finish the city,
I come home half-erased.
The speakers are broken.
All of a sudden
I learn Spanish and sing.
The ghosts
in the closet
are friends
from nowhere.
I remember the film.
The first ten minutes
replaced with vinyl couches.
Teeth dance between two empty lots.
Factories tacked
to a lone tree
between two
horrendous smiles.
When I examine the length of drool,
I realize that I am at home,
no disappearing.
Just never there.
Burlesque Press 