Steel girders high above,
support a railroad, criss-crossing underneath
to keep it from falling down.
Vertical beams extend from massive
concrete blocks, as tall as two men and as wide.
Megan & Tim 4evr.
Who are Megan and Tim?
Two kids, ages thirteen and fourteen, respectively,
convinced their “love” will last
forever. Honey, say that you’re mine,
and I’ll be here ‘til the end of time.
No question of whether to stay or go:
he stays by default. Why wouldn’t he?
Promises and promises pile on,
like heavy rocks placed on your chest for a crushing.
She yelled, jerking me away from my thoughts,
“Hey, wake up and watch this!” as she swung from
the rope, letting go at its peak and flying downward into the water,
landing with a massive splash, like a beautiful
fountain centered in a grassy patch
in the middle of a rich man’s driveway,
lined up perfectly with the massive iron gate.
I laughed, she climbed back out,
and we dried off, and we left.
It was one of those humid days, when you
can feel the sweat building up in your pores
like water behind a dam, just waiting for it
to burst out. We rolled the windows all the way down
(she insisted on that, I hate having them down),
and I told her about the graffiti. She didn’t find
the humor in it, and spent the rest of the ride
giving me a thoughtful look, as the wet summer heat
lay heavy on my shoulders.
Mar 31, 2010
Mar 31, 2010 at 4:19 PM UTC
Steel girders high above,
support a railroad, criss-crossing underneath
to keep it from falling down.
Vertical beams extend from massive
concrete blocks, as tall as two men and as wide.
Megan & Tim 4evr.
Who are Megan and Tim?
Two kids, ages thirteen and fourteen, respectively,
convinced their “love” will last
forever. Honey, say that you’re mine,
and I’ll be here ‘til the end of time.
No question of whether to stay or go:
he stays by default. Why wouldn’t he?
Promises and promises pile on,
like heavy rocks placed on your chest for a crushing.
She yelled, jerking me away from my thoughts,
“Hey, wake up and watch this!” as she swung from
the rope, letting go at its peak and flying downward into the water,
landing with a massive splash, like a beautiful
fountain centered in a grassy patch
in the middle of a rich man’s driveway,
lined up perfectly with the massive iron gate.
I laughed, she climbed back out,
and we dried off, and we left.
It was one of those humid days, when you
can feel the sweat building up in your pores
like water behind a dam, just waiting for it
to burst out. We rolled the windows all the way down
(she insisted on that, I hate having them down),
and I told her about the graffiti. She didn’t find
the humor in it, and spent the rest of the ride
giving me a thoughtful look, as the wet summer heat
lay heavy on my shoulders.