The children of inconsequence
Ah to be so carefree
Spontaneity running through their blood
as quickly as the dollar and dime alcohol
that they consume nightly.
The children of inconsequence
They do not run from their shadows –
Their shadows run from them
Delighting in the light
Of their fluorescent, radioactive spirit.
The children
Breathing in the thick vanilla air
Running to who knows where
With two feet on the ground
They never stop moving.
Inconsequence
They need no belts
They will wear dresses
And drawstring flannel pants
They know they will not fall.