At the old Paramount Theater,

I am nine and some free form

of gum glob is sticking

to the insides of my hurt.

To my better side, my uncle

is imitating goat sounds

because the movie is partially

pastoral and maybe correct in

location. My mother who was

pregnant up until last month

has a deflated belly

now in symmetry with mine.

Off screen, we’re back

to being a family without

electrified fences.