eyes closed, a dark haired man
with dark brown eyes
stands in the darkness
imagining the world
upon a turtle’s back

this is Lowell, Massachusetts
he thinks, he thinks he knows
he thinks everyone knows
reality is this — but this is not
anything but now and here

he opens his eyes
pushes his hair back from his face
sees the world he could not imagine
and wonders if that feeling in his gut
is the motion of the turtle
through the starry sea

this is Lowell, Massachusetts
he reminds himself, he reminds himself
he is reminding himself everyone is forgotten
this is reality — but this is not real
memory is a fickle friend without anybody
really.