They are strewn
around my neighbourhood
invisible people
harnessed in my mind
to their objects
like the person
with the house
on the busy street
who built a slide
down one half of his steps
or the one
who leaves flowers
every so often
on that unmarked bench
and the woman
who leans her bike
every morning
by the gym
unlocked
painted with a pink
Mae West quote
the one about Snow White
then the other day
I flinched
like I’d been stung
when the door opened
to the house with the slide
I looked away
surprised by how desperately
I didn’t want to see him
how I clung
to the fancy
of my assumptions.