after Pauletta Hansel
On the island where I’m from people talk to people they don’t know like they’re people they’ve known all their life and desperately want to catch up, whether they’re in line at the bank, the grocery store, or Taco Bell. Nobody seems to be going anywhere ever so everybody is always exactly where they want to be. I’ve been trying to greet back to my island all my life, but it turns out I’m too quiet and there’s always somewhere I’m trying to be so I have trouble finding my island. When I’m lucky, I catch a glimpse of it, but by the time I type the address in Google Maps it’s floated off somewhere else. Oh yeah, the island where I’m from floats,
sometimes on the waves, sometimes the ditch, sometimes the clouds.