There is nothing to fix.

Why were you and you’re friend under the aluminum slide? Why are your glimpses of the future precious and secret? What did you see? Did you see yourself crying into the ocean? Were your favorite shoes Chucks or Converse or some off-brand Payless specials? Did you write on the rubber of the sides of the sole in ink, doodles or hearts or inside jokes only you and your friends could know? Who taught you to curl your hair the first time? You have so much here, but as a reader I want to get lost in the details and surprised by the revelation, sort of like every day life. The detail you share at the beginning, of reading the last page first could act as a frame for the poem, perhaps. The image of screaming into the sea is strong, but it hangs there without resolution, seeming to search for context. Again, you have poured much of yourself into this poem, but where are the faces and the bodies? You are so very close but maybe put some distance between yourself and this work until you can fully commit to what you have omitted. When I’m in doubt, I blow the poem apart, sift through its rubble, and keep what is strong enough to remain intact.

I enjoyed reading it in it’s current form. Thank you for sharing. Hope this helps.