While we were waiting

I felt as helpless

as that day by the lake

when I was ten,

the sound of rollerblades

along a boardwalk,

cracked-paint dinosaurs

Immobile in sand.

My tiny eyes fixed

on the seagull

with a banana peel

halfway down its throat, choking.

When you were born

the record that had been skipping

for years

found its thread,

squirrels suddenly remembered

where they buried their cache

and could once again

add some weight

to their lean bones.