Abducted Friends

by Manoli Kouremetis

Like a ransomer’s note —
my memories of you
and I squish against
one another.

Mismatched letters of
sentences ill-fitting — the serifs
and shading
and hasty cutting

leaves the look of
our life together — fragmented
taunts in bold
font and

blasts of color — a mock
malice as dangerous as
our pranks that frightened
neighbors and

made sleep unnecessary.
But it is you and
I who have been
taken — and the ransomer’s

plea ignored falls to the
floor, kicked under
the sofa —
rendered void

like the expired
coupons used to
put together this last shriek
of you and I —

magazine glossy,
newsprint smudged —
interlocking
out of sight.