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poetry/s/sleepover2011.txt

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+Sleepover 2011
+2020-12-14
+
+***
+
+her backyard was a battle field
+where she taught me how to wield
+a million weapons, imaginary, unseen,
+on the violent stage of a trampoline
+
+donning goggles, head dunked in a pail,
+barely enough time to hold my breath
+as I gazed around, lungs jumping,
+body convinced of imminent death
+
+the carpet of that living room
+was a boundless field, like on that long-ago childhood day
+long before we had met, Father and I at the trainfield,
+I threatening to run away
+
+infinite possibilities
+in the absence of the sun,
+trying to sleep in a forgotten corner
+or playing games, voices softer than a soft hum
+
+all the challenge, the excitement,
+in managing to avoid
+the wrath of her parents,
+lest they burst a hemorrhoid
+
+I buried myself in galaxies,
+I danced among the stars,
+although, since it was *her* game cartridge,
+I never got very far
+
+come the next morning, at home,
+I'd collapse and sleep far past noon
+in wait for the next time
+I could wave hi at the moon
+
+***
+
+CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander