Hawkins, Per. 4
Hide and Seek
In the Tabasco heat of summer,
The air becomes so sticky and heavy
That it leaves me pressed flat on a bench
While insects become trapped,
Suspended in midair by invisible strings.
I dare not disturb the stillness.
I hold my breath
As day wavers around me
And night creeps softly into the park.
Leaping up suddenly, I shout,
"Ready or not, here I come!"
Pattering feet scatter
From the yellow pools of frantically waving flashlights
And from my watchful eyes.
They run like demons,
Chasing their own shadows, tall and skeletal,
Ducking and diving
Into flashes of darkness and light
With me not so far behind.
I pounce, gasping and laughing, upon my quarry,
And we collapse into the dry grass
That sighed away its greenness many weeks ago.
I streak away, leaving the new seeker
To commit his own search
As I find a safe place to hide.