It was never anticipated. In slow motion that only lasted a few seconds, his arms shot up into the orange tinted sky and he was flipped in a perfect circle until he landed on his bottom with a dull thud. Then came the cries. In the bubble of time, the echoes of his cries were not piercing. Instead I heard soft whimpers, and then progressive sobs dribble out of his small mouth, that was wrinkled into a frown. My heart broke as I idiotically stared at the little boy whose nose was dripping with snot, soft wavy hair that was matted with leaves, and whose bitable cheeks were blotted red as a cherry. The boy in the purple jumpsuit.

When she was just a child
She met him on the playground

Both had scratched up knees
And dirt smudged cheeks

That summer evening
They took turns
Pushing each other on the creaky swingset
Climbing up the dented slide
And swinging on the slippery bars

Theirs eyes glowed with joy
Smiles stretched as wide as the dough their mothers made for them to play with
And laughs as bright as a beam of sunshine.

They were always hand in hand
Everywhere they went

And then the sun poked the tips of the trees
And the crickets began singing
And the stars began dancing
And it was time to go

His lanky body pressed against the wooden rail
Chin in hand
Back curved as he leaned over the edge
Soft wavy hair
Hazel and amber
Catching the rays of the blood orange sun
Red t-shirt crinkled
Flapping in the breeze like a flag
His body soaked in a halo of fire
Green drooped eyes
Just staring
Glazed
Gazing into the distance
Tethered to infinity
To life
To wonder
To joy
To anger
To oblivion
To fear
To the unknown
Two beautiful things
The boy and the bridge
And he didn’t realize it, of course,
That he was
He was
He was

Those dusky evenings when they march down the road
Run onto lawns
Skip across fields
Hand in hand
Jumping across cracks
Stomping through flowers
Rolling down hills
And making dandelion paste

The room glows with pale yellow light
Its soft veil caressing my cheek
Thin orange curtains flow gently
Through the warm breeze
That wraps around me
And lingers with the scent
of lilacs
It's moments like these
That take you back

Red cages
Chipped and rusted
Each locked with its own secret code
Whitewashed walls
Of forgotten brick
And narrow pathways
Stained with stampedes
Of ***** footprints
Doors line both sides of the pathways
And inside each door this are rows
Of neatly lined seats
For the prisoners to sit
They must be given a pass to go to the bathroom
And must never speak out loud
Or they will be punished
They stand when they hear the commander over the speaker
They speak the anthem
The anthem of all
And then they march down the halls
At exactly noon
Just to eat
And the must not talk too loud
And they only have a few minutes to eat
And each portion is just one slice of pizza
Greasy, soggy, wet
And a dry cookie
And they must never complain
Because they are so fortunate
To be prisoners of this beautiful system
They are the future generation
Of us all