a wind on my face
like fish changing direction

a shimmer of light
when one of them moves,
all of them follow

when I was young,
the young mothers
would take me and my friends
toilet-papering houses

they said we would do it anyway
some of my friends
were tall as men, even then

those nights in the yards of girls
for someone else – I would focus
on throwing the roll
I would grab its tail in the air
so gently, let it spin, as if I were Matt
or Philip jockeying girls
over the ledge of our swimming pool
before pulling them back,
keeping them dry

I was small. I could only ever hope
to look a girl in the eye
before falling in the water also