Everyone except Julie was dancing badly,
and I was sitting there watching with Tom
who had a broken ankle for his excuse.
What is this snuffling through the foliage
that tears at my heart? Don’t wander
so far away, I hear myself saying.
But she never listened to me
if she didn’t want to.
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A bat appears, zigzagging across
the twilight, indifferent
to its freedom, and I’m reminded
of the dream where I float
out of bed and up to the ceiling.
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I made this self all by myself
I drove this nail into the wall myself
I stained the wood’s grain I planed the wood myself
I wrote the book on the shelf I made myself
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