not poetry.

your arms are sore your back is stiff your shoulders aching your bruises hurting but you’re still eyeing the zipline at the playground

you say it’s ok, let’s wait until it’s dark and no kids are around let’s get a few drinks but when was the last time you felt like yourself without getting a little drunk, a little high first?

the swings are too low the slides are too short I don’t think I fit on the zipline seat you say maybe I should go home you say but just you wait lie down, close your eyes, sing a little, laugh a little, forget a little until the breeze fades away and time feels fake you’ll remember how to fly on the zipline