We were led out front, stripped of our khakis, and provided with orange jumpsuits two sizes too big so we billowed and glowed like inflatable men in front of car lots.
I cannot say why they picked this place,
why they stopped moving where they did,
those ancestors of mine who settled
in this steep tangle of over- and undergrowth.
“I’d trade my masculinity for a Popsicle,” my housemate Rob said, elbows akimbo behind his head, topped with a black beanie. I was curled beside him on the futon….