Shirley McLaine flew
tethered by a silver string
I was 14, precipice pubescent
I ate the moon, swallowed,
Followed.
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)
No comments:
Post a Comment