Swing set: Savior

Car horns blare angry in my ears

The humidity sticks to the air

So that it feels like running fingers

Through thick damp hair


Abrasive sandpaper laughter

littered about. So many words thrown together

Clot.

Do they mean anything?

This barrier between sincerity and humanity

leaves bitterness lingering

in my mouth like coffee all day in the pot


Traveling the asphalt forest

to a scattering wood chip sea

making the escape into movement

flying away on the swings


Strike up a conversation with the breeze

trading places back and forth

with the wind

The sun sprinkles down in

Crushed golden heat


The Seat digs into my hips

my palms hurt from holding onto the

chains that don't hold me back

The picture in front of me glides closer then away

back and forth

and

back and forth

freedom...solitude...is in a rubber, yellow, swing.