I am contained by spit and bailing wire,

the old go-cart

knocked together from peach crates,

roller skates,

an old wooden skate

affixed with bent nails

to peach-stained slats.

Rocking down hills,

round hairpin turns,

skipping cracks

and gaps.

Memory.

Bailing wire

and gum, glue,

thoughts of you.

Cocksure

and unafraid.

Rickety with memory,

bound by hope

bent nails

dreams of you,

your island, my roads.

My myriad, rocky roads.

Along I roll.

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