I skipped a rock
on a lake.
It skipped six times.
I was estatic.

Six. *******. Times.

How simple life was
during childhood.
The joy you could get
by throwing a rock.

The fun of finding that
“perfect” one.

The one that was round,
completely flat.
You knew it was the right one.
It was gonna give you that
sixth skip
you’ve been waiting for.
And when you got it.
It was like nothing could break you.

Now,
I’ve grown up.
Skipping rocks is for children.
Bills and occupation are for men.
Getting up early,
drowning myself in coffee.
Making millions of ******* dollars,
for someone else.

Seems pretty redundant,
unsatisfying.

Yeah, we all look forward to pay day.

Today is different,
I’m looking forward
to getting that seventh skip.