a tightrope, aloft to the side of the
boat connecting two island crossings,
narrow enough to walk on with
pigeon toed persons carrying their
suitcases like an urn with their lovers
ashes-carry on, they may, cross the
creek bed that forms slowly to a lake,
to find the other side is full of geraniums
and gymnasiums, and they can’t tell one
from the other, or another from another.
