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.