You cannot select more than 25 topics
Topics must start with a letter or number, can include dashes ('-') and can be up to 35 characters long.
44 lines
1023 B
Plaintext
44 lines
1023 B
Plaintext
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
|