the boy unfound seeks their kin

things i know: pained waiting, the crunch of a pad 

in a pocket, my body’s betrayal. 

concrete playground assigns me        double dutch 

rope burn   yearning 

every day, the boy huddle forms a perfect circle. 

i study the correctness among them, how 

the land agrees. cool breeze honors their sunkissed 

shaves. they declare presence with certainty as one, 

shooting congealed globs across the earth. 

elsewhere, i drop into a wormhole. 

inside: plaid skirts parachuting as i turn 

the rope. their identical giggles each day. 

“Do you want a turn, ——- ? i know 

what games you like. Maybe tomorrow?” 

mary janes slap the ground. i’m not good 

at being one of them, i think. blaring sun 

pierces my raincoat. 

today, the sweltering question. 

is my back budding      blue feathers 

or am i most alive in my dreams? 

it would be so    easy. blacktop chasing 

boy — brother — smile weightless 

and bursting. i need to return 

to the freedom i was born with. i edge toward 

their perimeter. whooping laughter silenced. 

boy spit paints the ground like a beacon. i pray for aim. 

cheeks    gargle    and purse    with wanting    until 

spittle down my chest.

my infiltration is a hot, dripping 

impostor. the circle dissolves, 

viscous failure in its wake.