The slide has a 60 pound weight limit.
The slide has a 60 pound weight limit and
It smells like freshly mown grass and a
Soaked one piece Ariel swimsuit—the pink ruffles that
Cling
To a toddler’s stomach rolls as she squeaks and squelches down the plastic
Into the dark blue Made in China kiddie pool
That has creatures from all levels of the ocean together
And she doesn’t care.
The slide has a 60 pound weight limit and
Has visible handprints on the sides from
The toddler holding on for dear life before
She gathers the courage to balance on top on her own.
The slide has a 60 pound weight limit and
Sits in that yard for almost a decade at the end
Of the sickly green swing set that lifts up out of the ground
Whenever the toddler pumps too hard,
And is a end destination for the intense races across the apparatus
That occur every Sunday noon amongst the Sunday School kids without fail.
The slide has a 60 pound weight limit and
Under it is one of the best places for hide-and-seek in the winter,
When it is almost buried under the glistening snow
And the toddler can’t feel her legs anymore but she doesn’t care because
She can’t be found.
At that age she has no limits, no mental restraints that
Cut her dreams off before they bear fruit.
The slide has a 60 pound weight limit,
And of the world beyond it she is only a
Prisoner of fierce fascination.

I was sixteen when the machines came.
The letters “C-A-T” screamed at me from across the street
As the harsh yellow tore at the roots of the
Cherry trees across the street.
Of course the orchard had never been mine,
I had not planted the seeds and curated the
Beautiful blooms through their short lives,
Picked the cherries off the trees myself.
But what about all the photoshoots I’d done
Among the gorgeous white blooms,
All the times my friend had walked through
The rows of trees to get to my house and
Left paint splatters of cherries across the kitchen floor,
All the sunsets I’d seen through the leaves
That made me nostalgic for things
I had never experienced?
What if I’m growing up and moving out
And can’t seem to wrap my head around the fact that
These plants that have smiled at me from my
Window for over a decade have returned
To the Earth?
What if these days the
Weeks are crying when they should be glowing and
The absence of trees is simply the target of
One of those odd tricks that sorrow shoots out of the mind
That remind me that change is the only thing that’s
Permanent?
I wish that the emptiness of the field could be replaced by
Happy little white blooms
But instead the CAT machines screech and moan
And all I can feel is
The ache of old nostalgia and the
Peculiar nostalgia of the unknown.

They say that wisdom comes with age
that knowledge slowly worms it's way into your mind
that each day brings forth new ideas, new connections, new moments
that molds your not fully developed brain into a somewhat more stable shape.

I have moved another year forward
now have 22 years under my belt.
22 years of jam packing tidbits and statistics
from places I've never been,
and yet that aged wisdom still escapes me. ​
I feel as though I have Benjamin Buttoned myself
to a time before I ever existed,
an empty chasm of isolation where asking a question
feels even more difficult than finding an answer.

These pieces of myself are falling away
as easily as my baby teeth fell from my mouth
that metalic taste faded like the edges of a picture
labeled summer '03.

My eyes are crinkled,
lines mark my cheeks whenever I smile,
and my mind is fogged with the things I feel
I don't know.

I put away the dishes
hampering peace of mind
dancing between the counters
handling the quiet

tidying a mess
and unhiding fears
feeling each breath in my throat,
fighting back tears

I picture the most beautiful
and sad, image I've ever had
and wonder if heartache
only gets harder with age

At the arc of my day
Before things go back to different
I shutter in my memories
and put away the dishes

Watching the lightning, listening to thunder
Did I do the wrong or right thing
It’s got to make you wonder
What tomorrow might bring
to tear it all asunder.

Splitting our limbs and bringing the pain
Leaving us torn
We wonder why it came
But the fiercest storms
still bring the rain.

We try to hold on to what we forgot
Not to grow up and throw it all away
But the storm has taught
That life finds a way
And branches heal like it or not.

I miss my fiends and I miss my youth
If I could go back I don’t know what I’d do
Branches bend and on time moves
All things end but the search for truth

Living life by a corner store;
buying into people's ideas.
Till my pockets grew empty,
and I was still searching for more.

Kids riding up and down the street,
not knowing much, just good at
disturbing the peace.
Memories we like to hold,
are probably the ones like our first kiss.
We went through times watching the stress of these adults.
Parents fighting each other,
thinking it's all our fault.

Never grew up with much,
had to make it feel like it was a lot.
Every gain we had, came with it's equal loss.
All the mistakes we made,
soon later came with a cost.

From acting shy around pretty girls,
spinning our words to impress them.
But too busy caught up in their curls.
As teens, promising to give them a world,
we knew we couldn't afford.
Spending our free periods in class kissing girls cause, we were bored.

Skipping a few classes, thinking in life we could skip ahead.
Telling each all the lies we rest in everyday,
always backing up your friend.
Teachers calling us out for not
being serious,
We didn't believe their words,
those words weren't really us.

Sneaking into clubs before eighteen,
sipping substances from brown bottles.
The times we had, we were surely wasting.

First few times we were smoking herbs,
pulling hard puffs, till we were disturbed.
Out of luck at times,
when we didn't find love or comfort.
Regardless of the cost,
we'd spend hours on gaming, all through the summer.

Boys feeling like men when we busy getting hooked on ****.
The start of our addictions, and the hunger of flesh was what showed.

Fitting in with the crowd till you found yourself,
realizing we don't have forever this youth.
But we didn't treasure it's wealth.

We're all adults now, and this adulting life at times *****.
Eventually I'll have to find love,
but falling in love really hurts and cuts.
With the fears of not giving her enough.

But we're adults now,
look how far we've come.
Can't runaway from the responsibility,
else we'll all be on the run.

This is the tale of growing up.

A pair of eyes collides
With one identical pair,
The first pair owner lowers
His head to bow as heir.
The second rises slowly,
Triumphant lifts his voice,
Commands, commands this brainless
Descendant of his choice.

But number One refuses
He negatively shrinks
And in the eyes of daddy
He stares and never blinks
A “NO” still echoes somewhere
The word becomes a sword
It riddles Second´s ticker
And One is without lord.

Pale but smiling number Two
Congratulates his son.
Reassuring number One
His loss means that he won.
Then Two drops dead
At least in part
And moves no inch of bone

One, alone, falls into pit.
Pit uncertainty.
One can´t think straight,
Brain so full that empty.
Two wore coat,
Two´s coat heavy.
One still wears it,
Legs are wobbly.

One
Take first own step
Alone