Toucan bids me Luck

A stretch of land swinging below me offers up sacrifices of pretty figurines molded in plastic. A black Toucan with red and blue accented feathers stands out among the stiff spread of insects, dolls, and animals. Some blankets are empty, but every roof is outlined, making up the grid – a flat game of Tetra, frozen on level two. The bodies I recall the clearest are those upon which I swoop closest to their surface. That black, painted Toucan and the green grasshopper with the broken tail, cracked at the top. They sunbathe indirectly, not quite to the melting point. It just makes sense: the sun is the source of all life and these lifeless creations are trying their best to know it.

Eventually I’m going to have to come down. I didn’t mean to be swept this far over the mountains, over the royal blue waters blending into soft sandy mutes. I run like any other girl driven to flowers, except when I reach that speed that pulls my blouse behind me, my feet forget the round; I am lifted. This day I float too high and I’m scared more than usual.

The last house leaves me flying over industrial lands. I look back at the brick wall sacrificing these figurines to their gods, a disruption in an image that reminds me of my dilemma.

“They are fossils, and I think this map goes with them. See how the skeletons come to life in these drawings. Where did these come from?” I gently land like a goose to the waters outside a concrete garage. I know these people.

Recalling my adventure, I remember ice cream and men - their skins glistening in heat, tight over strength - the ice cream in pints, fed to my tongue. I watch his smooth, plump lips slightly parted to encourage my own. I was there on an errand, yes, still an accident, but at least I was not lost. These men in their bodies knew what I meant and they gave me what I needed. I needed to breathe harder.