By Amy Anderson
She 9, He 21
Walk through the pale yellow fields—her arms drape over his
shoulders as he carries her on his back.
Grey clouds ripple with electric currents.
She rests her chin at the crook of his neck.
I feel like we’re walkin’ in circles.
He stops—turns his head. The trees, the fields, the road—
It all looks the same.
Are you lost?
What about the stars? Follow the star like the Magi.
He drops his hands—she slides off his back. He turns to her.
This isn’t simple. This isn’t some story in some book.
I can’t follow the stars because
I don’t even know where we’re goin’
Then what are we doing?