these hot summer days my palms are black from climbing trees and digging dirt,
burying the stuff i dug out of my pockets
like pocket change
a rusty paperclip or a safety pin,
some wet fireworks i never lit, but meant to ages ago.
today i forgot my multiplication table,
but i can read more words than i ever could,
biking down this narrow street,
downhill,
feet on peddle,
mouth open,
leaves getting caught in my hair and hair getting caught in this delicious breeze.
No comments:
Post a Comment