anti-gravity

levitating through backyards in the suburbs i was taken aback by all the lights and fences, so returned to the house where you rent me a second floor room.  i kept banging into the wall.  as i attempted to hover over the roof i saw you in your nightgown illuminated by the tv's dull light. you were looking out the picture window.  i hoped you wouldn't, but you saw me and said, i didn't know you had powers too. looking into your eyes i remembered your son was a suicide. in the bright morning yellow we stood in the nave of a church without pews and turned up our palms.  a few old men encircled us.  the power made me tingle but we couldn't make them float. they were just too heavy.  one of them shouted phonies and swatted the air at goddammed mumbo-jumbo. we went into a backroom beneath the bell tower and sat at a barrel where the pastor had set out a plate of doritos.  a trail of orange crumbs ran across the floor and up the wall into a dusty trapdoor on the ceiling where a hole had been chewed.