Levitation

I saw a man levitate in an alley. I couldn’t tell if he was inside a dream. This man had a beard down to his belly and a hole in his chest. He said he’d do exactly what we thought he couldn’t. It was only him, me, and darkness. He flew like a harmed bird and escaped.

Sometimes the lights blind me. I try to find the exit, but I keep bumping into the past. My father pushes me toward the fire, but my mother pulls me back. The heat plays with my skin. There’s a piece of me I need in those ashes.

I only stand on flatlands. Mountains and hills are deleted scenes. I pass by people I knew and ones I never will. Their faces tell stories only I see. Hollow, bleak, frightened. Smile and frown. Be delightful yet volatile. Repeat.

The toy box in the closet is from a cold childhood. Hugs were replaced with stuffed animals. Love was built with Legos. The carpet was stained. Crumbs decorated the kitchen. Ants became my friends. Then came random humans who said they’d take care of me. I spun around till …