Thursday, September 29, 2016


Shirley McLaine flew
tethered by a silver string

I was 14, precipice pubescent
I ate the moon, swallowed,

Why does adulthood leaden our feet?
The mind is a balloon.

I see you bob aloft, I almost feel myself rising to feel the warmth
that buoys you but you remain

out of reach.
I can grow weak wings.
Not enough.

I could have been a balloon but
I waited too long for someone to cut my string

There never was a string.

(dedicated to max who i haven't met)

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