Flying through the air,
the streetlamp illuminates
two laughing figures,
two friends, too old for this
childish pass-time,
yet evidently loving the moment.
My red skirt swirls around
my knees as I fly too
high, and catch my
breath in surprise,
my laughter doubling
at the familiar
childhood sensation of
trepidation and exhilaration.
Decisions, reality, life
are on hold and
my feet graze the
sand to slow my
momentum.
I sit, rocking slightly
like a pendulum,
craning my neck uncomfortably
to look at the unusually bright stars,
failing to see a pattern
hidden therein.
Tonight, I am a kid again.
Tonight, reality: fuck off.
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