the noxious smell of gas from worn out
amusement park rides
the blaring sun making the group picture take longer
whines and groans and chants for iced water
misty cool mornings after the storm
the distinct smell of grandma’s car rides
the waves of nostalgia when you see graf on the walls in williamsburg
the laughter of kids on the swings while walking past parks
remembering the child you used to be,
swinging
escaping reality
knowing those children will be just as lost as you one day
looking at sand
boys legs stretching like taffy
and it’s like we never moved