Frayed Shorts, Frisbee and The Fourth of July

Fingertips tied in grace to juvenile fascination,
Prancing with parades encompassing
Playing games of hopscotch
Drew hieroglyphs with chalk
Chewed on cheek fat
Took turns spitting homesick eulogies,
Writing candle-wax letters in sandboxes,
Shouting echoes of sanguine retrospection
Paced thoughts
Painted pictures of words never spoken
Pulled taut sidewalks
Swinging clothes dripping wet
Counting woodchips,
Street numbers
Swimming nude in shirt and shoes
Stood facing sodden at arms length
Knees showing relentless
Tidal pond
Distant fireworks
Setting sun
Voices talking,
Trading heartbeats
Syncopating path and direction,
West is where the night came from
But the northern shore of Lake Michigan
Is where it was first felt


Author: Montana Svoboda

I'm a genderless poet currently living in Central Michigan where I attend college for Environmental Science and English. Nature's some cool shit, frisbee's a neat activity, fountain pens are best pens, Latakia for life, coffee and tea keep these gears turning.

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