Filling silence at the expense
of hours of sleep.
The floorboards in the hallway
all groan when you walk
across them.
Dragging a red marker
across the dead wall of
her old school, she remembers
what it felt like to stand in
line.
The bushes are full of
worms wrapping themselves
in shrouds to become moths
that get lost in the night,
but only from our perspective.
They looked at them and wondered
if it hurt to be reborn out of almost
nothing. The oldest among them
assured them that it did.
Holes busted through the middles
of forgotten trampolines, and green
water making waves against the browning
sides of aluminum swimming pools.
There is no supervision and you
can run laps around them with
no penalty.
Plastic rings that glowed different
colors, when your broke open their
insides, marked them all as they
ran through the shadows.
Always trying to stay
awake to see the sunrise,
but falling short, only to
dream about the Fall.
Teleporting Typewriter 