over the shoulder squeals giggles atop great grandma's quilt from under the tree that we have all hit our heads on
way up in the field screaming up in to the sky NO POCKET KITE WHAT ARE YOU DOING???! diving a dipping then crashing youre no trick kite! nothing but a dollar store impulse buy ill *** you up and stuff you back into the belt-clippable makeshift container the one you shamefully came in curse you and your inadequately short string maybe she'll have you return you to your designers glory not i
oh but you i see you soaring string waaaay to far out dangling above the trees and power lines to boot aloft at least 100 meters up today you soared mathew perry shoot thats what im going to call you parachute in a bag to heights i could never achieve standing in the sand waves crashing against phalanges in those years over a decade back now and you and your potential joy provided collected dust in that same place that i left you all those years ago
but i had to call the dog back up "TESS DOG, HEEL!" and i had to wipe the quinoa of my hands and roll up your string she had to stop smiling at some point your stewardess or should i say flight attendant smiling, no loving. or staying. kissing.
oh lets stay here! in the field atop the blossoms of berries yet ripened smiling "pulling and running!!!" under the shade tree on a blanket holding hands
give me thirty days though i have some things to work out