The room is lit dimly and there is the anticipation of going out—dad’s showered, mom’s putting on make-up, lights are on in bathrooms and closets. I am the babysitter coming over. I tuck my feet under rough-edged bedspread for non-comforting warmth as I dig into homework, reading, lists I’ve avoided, try to cling to their company. I flip through pages but keep coming back to the same one.

There is a possession happening.

Day clouds racing across the sky, why

stand alone in the woods?

Night rhythms rocking my veins, brains

succumbing to the thump.

Someone speaking with my mouth! making great jokes, babbling like a greyhound to a boy from Queens til he is undone, won

over by an odd charm.

The touch of a musician til I am gone,

lost to tactility, silly

with adoration, a nation

of children inside wanting to watch, touch, listen.

You.