Becca Wild
Woke up this morning to Juli’s voice coming out of a phone. 
The shadows were elongating & 
becoming entirely new things. I liked it because Juli 
is still alive. I had images of her (which I guess 
were also me) in ditches on the sides of long 
Haiwaiian roads without a coconut for breakfast in 
sight. But now she’s alive, and drunk, and yelling into a 
cell phone with buttons that light up her cheek, and 
we can now all imagine that she’s fine. Here we still 
are, stewing around in ourselves in New Paltz, 
making the kind of mud and gunk Hawaii would 
never dream of, and Juli lives in our subconscious 
as someone who ran for her life and made it. I like 
it because it gives me faith that you can dive & land, 
even if you can’t quite fly.