A Series of Portals
Riley Bowen

12 meters North of here,
there are two girls in a garden, 

“Then what?”
		“They are sitting.”

This is a good start 
to a story. Meanwhile,

considering their options, 
two girls go swimming. 
They see the yellowsun.

Two girls drift into the slow lane, 
their exit is coming up and if they miss it
that’s another hour to the drive.

Again:

Two girls lose touch in different 
states. My sweater grows holes
in the most inconvenient places.

Again:

Let’s say I’m 15 miles West of here. 
In this version I am alone, 
holding an envelope, inside a list 
of names and my new address.