You were their along the boardwalk
Talking to yourself in rhythms
(Unfamiliar to me
At the time).
You turned the dial
Of the radio until you
Came across something you liked;
Ice tea upon the iron cast table.
I waited up all night,
In the hopes you’d come
Looking for me
But you never did.
I heard the cast of the birds in their cage,
The sort of thing that never fully goes away.
Hides in the closet upstairs
Next to the Halloween costumes, sure
But it never truly leaves the house.
Just then, the scorpion pops the beach ball.
Nobody was looking.
Inside of the beach ball,
A shard of broken mirror
Filled with the water of an above ground swimming pool,
Reflecting shimmering, dancing light
There in the corner of the room.
Nudity buried in the static,
Grey and green and black and red and blue.