I imagine a film I would like to see
in which the Castle's not a dorm
but a jungle gym, with towers
made to climb and foam pads
to cushion your fall.
Where an ethnically-diverse group
of smiling students circle-sit in the sun,
discussing plans to reach new heights.
They brainstorm far-fetched toys,
grapple hooks, gecko gloves,
a jetpack, says one.
A jetpack? the others laugh.
There's no way you could
really hope to get that.
He laughs too, a bit embarrassed,
then tells them he was serious.
They busy their hands to complete
the rope ladder that lies coiled
in the center of their circle
quite unlike a snake.
A single cord wraps
in and again on itself,
doubles back, crosses
and twists to form rungs
like a flattened DNA strand.
The sun sinks
into the deep western sky
and the students try to find
a way to hook their ladder
to the tower's top.
The first throw: no luck.
Second throw: no luck.
They whisper excitedly.
It's always the third one, they say.
Third throw: no luck.
One student climbs the tower
by hand. A foot on a windowsill,
another foot on a drainpipe,
hand on the top of a window,
foot on the overhang,
and he's up.
His friend throws him the ladder,
and he tries to hook it over
an ancient crenellation.
It won't fit,
so he anchors the rope against
his own body and supports
the first of his friends as she
climbs the ladder. It creaks
and the student holding it grunts,
but she reaches the top alright.
Now two help at the top, and
they both hold the ladder until
three, four, six all hold the ladder
up for their last friend.
As more pull at once, the task gets easier,
and they reach the rooftop
just in time to see the yellow moon
rise over distant Boston.