Not a Movie

I was already outside when you texted.

Standing there.

I read it and put my phone away

and didn't go back in.

There was a plastic bag snagged on the bottom rail

of the chain-link fence across the lot.

Not floating.

Stuck.

The mouth kept opening and closing.

The lower seam was gray with grime.

It had probably been there for days.

Someone dropped it from a car.

Or a bin overflowed.

It caught on the fence and that's where it stayed.

I kept thinking about that movie.

The bag that floats. The kid's voice doing the thing.

There's so much beauty in the world.

This bag wasn't floating.

It deflated against the rail

and puffed back up

and deflated again.

For twelve minutes.

I went inside.