a click, a whirr; the super eighties
an unsteady glimpse of a mostly-
imaginary backyard.
if tomorrow, let's spend it
refabricating our parents' disintegral reels.
grab your camera and let's meet
in subjunctive future, perfect past.
we'll raid garage sales across
this east side summer to find
vintage props,
kitschy artifacts,
and perhaps each other.