a collision propelling to the imagination of afterworlds
twirling, crying out at the spiraling dizziness
ignited the wretched fire in the pit of his stomach
painfully the pinpricks settled to belittle and mock
to sneer and to gloat as the giddiness of his steps
rattled down the cobblestone street under
the yellow-waxing moon,
he howled grandiosely, dripping golden-honey
of his joy, his laughing wild ecstasy
the cold seethed and glittered frost on the stones,
unsettled this scene untold,
wondering how this young man
had room to grow,
he took a breath
cheeks burnt with fall's amber
and sprinted down the cobblestone and slippery dark
shrilling without intention, yelling indefinitely
and he ran without notion
and maybe that is what we all missing
from our lives,
a little weightlessness