In a circle, we lob the ball to each other
until someone disrupts the flow.
To restore trust, we touch belly buttons
to the floor, rising to try again.
We mime making bologna sandwiches,
lingering under the hood of our desires
like a surrealist sticking a lightbulb
into a bowl of red pepper chili.
Off script, we upend the rules,
build a world, refuse to suffer.