I never had an imaginary friend,

but the universe,
not my universe,
always their universe,
has whispered in hushed harmonies
that i have lived an imaginary life

the woman with half-moon curves
has proclaimed on the television screen
that she is a real woman,
but i am not, because girls
made of telephone wires are not
real at all, bodies so skinny they just
fade away like silent screams from mice

the universe,
their universe, not mine,
has tried to take away husbands
and weddings and love from me
by sealing memories with
air quotes, issuing declarations
signed by the great rulers of the world,
that the grand chapel was just a chinese restaurant,
the rings were only plastic, and the love lacked
too much much official documentation
to be real love

teachers with notepads clenching morals
have grabbed me by my shaking wrists,
and held me back,
held me in a classroom, in a waiting room,
to wait, not for dentists, but to be fixed,
but to be human enough

they made me into a disappearing act,
an imaginary person who, one day,
crept away for good
to an imaginary school
above the sewers of new york city
inside the closet of a catholic school,
because it did not grant its
imaginary citizens diplomas
to certify that they were
real people.

I have never had an imaginary friend,
but if I did, I imagine she would sob
every night about grades, marriage
licenses, high school diplomas, united senators,
money, time, economic theories
and how unfair it is
that ugly inventions of the world
she never believed in
get to be real,
when she could not be.

together, we would
believe back
all that the universe,
their universe, not our's,
has taken away from us
and we would take them back,
lock them away in the
imagination section of our minds,
and it would be

the universe,

not their's, this time,
but our's.