Twenty-First Century Flint Mary Leonard

Like An Abandoned Bumper Car

I spun in circles
yesterday, my turns
hitting unexpected sides.

I was driving on Broadway
but needed to be somewhere
else, somewhere where

I knew the signs.
I was lost in my own
city, adrift in a search

for silver mounds, sea thrifts.
All day I had accomplished
what I hadn’t planned.

My list said wallpaper
and I flipped through
geometric grids to Art Deco

I am six. The Rockettes skip and tap,
skip and kick and I kick the rose velvet
seats with my patent leather toes and
I reach across the seashell light for more
jujube beads to eat.

On paper everything seems
words become objects:

shades, housepaints, celery, oranges, headphones

Lists do not list
meanderings, the time it takes
between celery and headphones,

the absences, the substitutions,
the spins and near misses,
the search for stones that skip


October 2002 2River