Vodka our ambrosia, we left detox
with a photograph, non persons again.
The first thing we did? Eat Chinese food
and scar a new moral code on the other’s midriff.
She wore a beige tent dress and shawl
to our first race riot, filmed willowy enigmas
dancing on tombstones for the scrapbook.
Took naps and snored, enthralled ourselves
with the aroma of fresh sneakers.
They gave us mystic goose bumps.
We loved the glitz of showroom hunger,
kept the tape recorders on,
built an empire of oral monologues,
accused anyone susceptible to scandal.
Relentless. Offered pecans and honey
from the empire’s futon. Shielded flaws
from enemies. They tried frogmen, comas.
Graduated, we shined like beacons on the harbor,
expatriates in our own country.