I sprang up from white dust
onto the shore & my mom calls me the Lying Cat—
I tell the truth whenever I’m awake.

I walked to the place where
everything sunk beneath the boardwalk
and pumped water out of a dead tortoise’s lungs.

If I punch his chest, I wondered:
would his soul creep back into his heart?
I couldn’t care for anything at that age.

Now I drive Cadillacs into expanding skylines
and with crusted fingernails,

dig my plastic shovel to find sand dollars
but it’s all empty.

Last week, I thought:
(I see a wilderness for you and me)
but that wasn’t very original

Tomorrow I’ll curtsy on flashing meteorites
and court double winged men on Mars.