There is a creek that runs through my neighborhood
It is *****
It is shallow
In the spring it overflows
Thrashing Spilling
Filling each clean corners’ crack and crevices
Stagnation stains the air
Wafting into each household

I like to think of when I was a child

I stood in the water
In all of its inconsequentiality
And looked longingly at the sun
As it swept me away from the sounds of mechanical inefficiencies grinding against the asphalt  
As I felt the soles of my shoes soak in filth
Seeping in-between the spaces dividing my toes

I fooled myself into believing this is what other children saw

Something pastoral

Where their rolling hills weren’t so different than my own

Where the stars bled through the skyline’s purple hue

But
I had the sun
The rushing salivation of water surrounding my ankles
The feeling of something gained and lost
A sanctuary
An appreciation amongst
All of that something
All of that nothing

There is a Creek that runs through my neighborhood
It is *****
It is Shallow
It is Mine