the attractive couple carry a live lamb to the last place their picnic blanket was not seen on fire.  the lamb taxes their young muscles with every weight gain its mind records.  they point and the lamb shifts but does not fall and it’s their pointing makes me hope they are happy.  the whole scene overwhelms my leg and I ask my closest son to rub at a certain area with his palms.  my failed son, son I am lost on, son I swing

at and miss
who goes on to refer to kites
as fireworks.