this is that dream you once had
for weeks on endless end
crayon warning signs in the margins
of the sidewalk-chalk paths leading home
where demons skip rope over hopscotch courts
trading smiles and stories and cereal box stickers
eye-corner glances
lip-corner smirks
equal trade
and it's so unfair today

take a chance.
they think your eyes are sort of pretty
your hair needs work, your posture is hopeless
but your smile's okay
denial's okay
yeah,
you're okay
as long as your feet stay in the chalkdust lines
one number at a time
yeah, you're okay
yeah, you can play

you think they're alright
(but only as much as you are)
and you think you've got the words
but not out loud

cause words will send you sprawling
and words will only throw you off key
and the truth is pretty
but they're prettier
and the truth is pretty
but they'll throw you away

only losers can't play hopscotch
only losers play pretend
only losers want to wake up
with ashy photographs for scraped knees.

so you let them win
over
over
over
again.