I swept the pink dirt from the grounds beneath
the apologetically heavy
saturated grass
pursed my lips and blew it
into the cloudy cushions of my blushing hands
then swallowed it all whole
one single gulp of its chalky séance
sliding down a dry kind of water slide
slipping itself around in its flamingo floatie
almost-falling from the grooves of my throat
spinning in the fuzzy nostalgia
of the circles it made around my feet this morning
one thousand times over
zooming speedily past the burnt oranges
and half-hearted blues
again and again
leaving crystal-clear pentagrams
in the split open wakes of dusk
all of these tiny little pleads
these gloomy promises
dissolving themselves into pale ashes
dipping their hair into a thick murk
taking flight with two feathery and forbidden
midnight arms
spread only to rebel against the wind
or maybe to hover
tower
One million feet—
above your scary-big shadows
small as ants from up here.