AMELIA GORMAN

Living in the Land of Lost Things

You are as likely to see a bigfoot
as you are a five-story building
or a video rental store.

Metal detectors at the airport
where a cardboard plane takes off
and you drink a beer you can afford
to buy with cash. Ghosts, the invisible
spaces inside of trees. Leviathan
ribs on the beach instead of the museum.
How easy it is to feel spun out,
outnumbered, unnumbered, buried alive,
untethered.

The radio says the seas will be high and confused
like you. They say that part out loud too
while they make eye contact through the blue.