dodging shards of terra cotta on the ground and shards of croaksong in the air we crouch at the bank, half way there, and the frogs vault over the tops of our sneakers. we are scaring chipmunks and hiding from snakes, balancing on the pipeline with our arms raised out like birds about to take flight. at the reservoir people are jumping from on high, grabbing at stars on the way down. when they land the cold pries open their fists and they surface shaking and full of nothingness. someone tosses an empty can of keystone into the water, stumble-swims away from it. it spills over one dam and glides toward the next, a girl flinches from a rock like a moth from a swat and pulls the can to the crags, they both rest there breathing heavy. they both dry off. she pulls on her clothes and pulls herself home in a flurry of forgot. as more kids jump, more stars fall from their hands until the can is full of a hope too heavy to drag home.